Don't Stretch The Rainbow
by mjlove1
Summary: Dean has a confession to make. Boys are 11 and 15 respectively in the beginning.*DISCLAIMER there is NO I repeat NO sex between them at this age. It's purely for backstory. Rated M for eventual slash, underage sex, and various other adult themes. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** First and foremost, this is un-beta'd, so if you see mistakes let me know. Also, there's one more piece to this that will be posted. Title comes from an actual episode of _21 Jumpstreet. _And finally_,_ thanks as always to beautiful SoulfulSam for her never ending support and ego boosting. Hope y'all enjoy.

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><p>Dean stared at the old re-runs of 21 Jumpstreet on the tiny tv, legs splayed in front of him. The couch jostled underneath him and he shot a glance at his father. John was on the far end of the sofa, Sam sandwiched between them. At only 11 years old, Sam was still small enough to fit between them, but Dean knew it wasn't going to last. Sam's feet and hands are huge, and it's only a matter of time before the rest of his body catches up to them. Dean felt his heart warm his core thinking of his brother. He was growing into a man Dean could be proud of.<p>

The couch springs groan again, and he eyed his dad out of his periphery. John sighed, glancing at his watch periodically. Dean knew the signs. John had a new hunt, and was about to be gone. Probably for a while, if his guilty fidgeting was any indication. Fixing his eyes on the screen-and Jesus Johnny Depp is hot- he speaks up. "Find a new hunt, Dad?" Sam froze between them.

"Got wind of something up north. Might be a lead." Studying his dad's movements out of the corner of his eye, he could tell how anxious he was to get going.

"Mhm. How long you gonna be gone?"

"'Bout a week or so. I want you boys to stay here. Keep an eye on your brother." As if he needed to be told. John rose then, gathering bags that had already been packed at some point. Dean stood and walked with his father to the door. "Take care of things around here, Son. I'm counting on you. Bye, Sam!" John shouted over Dean's shoulder at the boy who had evidently become fused with the couch. With that, he climbed into the truck, leaving Dean with the Impala, and drove away.

"Well, that didn't take long," Sam piped up from the sofa.

"Oh, he speaks." Dean turned from the door and headed straight into the kitchen for a beer. Dad left, which meant fifteen was an appropriate age for drinking. Not like Dad would have stopped him anyway. Plopping back down on the couch, he focused on the show again. Seriously, that show never should have ended. Not only was Johnny Depp ridiculously hot, but then there was Peter DeLuis AND Richard Greico? Too much hotness for one show. That must be why it was canceled. Sam nudged him out of his musing and shameless eye fucking, squirming on the couch for a comfortable spot.

"Jesus, Sammy, relax already." And he did, lying sideways on the couch; feet hanging over the arm with his head nestled on Dean's thigh. Running his fingers through his brother's hair absently, he considered how much more relaxed Sam always seems to become the second their dad is out the door.

"Uh, Dean? What the hell are we watching?"

"Cop show. And watch your mouth."

"It's kinda lame. Can I change it?" Sam tried in his pleading voice.

"Not a chance." His brother sighed but quieted down nonetheless. Dean took the moment of silence to retreat into his head once more. Staring at the screen, he took in the female officer. She was pretty, but his eyes instantly locked onto Officer Tom Hansen the second his face entered the frame. The girl was lean, bordering on too thin but Johnny's character was perfect: all lean muscles, hard jawline and high cheekbones. Not to mention awesome hair. The more he realized his attraction to guys, the more confused he became. Sure, he played up the ladies' man persona, but really only when his dad or other guys were in earshot. Never so much with Sammy though. He could be himself with his brother, although he's never come right out and said "I'm gay". Probably never will. No, Dean Winchester has an image to uphold, and if openly hitting on women while sneaking illicit kisses with guys in secret places is part of that image, then that is just how it is.

Sammy's breathing began to slow, and Dean ran his hands down his brother's back, soothing him into sleep. Sometimes, he wonders how Sam would handle his being gay. He's reasonably sure it wouldn't be a big deal. Sammy only wants his happiness, and he's just as confident that Dad would not take it the same way. However, if he came out to his father, he doesn't think he'll be disowned either. More than anything, his father would probably just ignore it. John would more than likely never embrace that "lifestyle", but he would love his son just the same. Dean has zero interest in testing that theory. Glancing down at his brother's sleeping form, he considers coming out to him. Gently, he runs his knuckles over Sammy's cheekbones, sharpening up where he is dramatically losing his baby fat. Absently, he wishes his brother could be a kid forever.

Sliding out from under his head, he clicks off the tv and sets about making the wards and laying down the salt lines. Every lock is checked, every weapon clean and ready to go at a moment's notice. Silver bullets, blades, and salt rounds are all in their usual places. Dean's gun is in the top drawer of the bed side table, his knife under his pillow. Everything is perfect, and with one last glance at the couch, he trudges upstairs to make a phone call. Naturally, he'll come back for Sam before he falls asleep. He doubts he could sleep without that furnace of a body beside him-safe, his brain supplies-anyway.

Upstairs, he closes the door only halfway-need to be able to hear downstairs after all-before throwing himself on the bed. Grabbing the phone on the bedside table, he dials the number quickly before he can chicken out. Heart pounding, he counts the rings. _One._ This is a terrible idea_. Two._ What if someone finds out? _Three_. Worse, what if his dad catches him?

"Hey, baby," the voice says just as he was about to hang up.

"Hey." Smooth Dean. Real smooth.

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna call."

"Yeah, so was I. Actually, I was waiting for my dad to leave. He just went out of town." What the fuck? Seriously? That's like high school open season for sex.

"Oh, really? So you're all alone?"

"Yeah. Well, except for my little brother, but he's asleep." Jesus, Dean shut your mouth. Why do you keep practically pimping yourself out?

"Huh, well, you wanna come over? I'm sure we can find something to do," the voice says, not leaving much to the imagination about the plans for the evening.

"Uh, actually no. I can't. I can't leave my brother." If he thought his heart was pounding before, it damn near seizes at the thought of leaving Sammy here alone. At night. Practically defenseless. No way. He made that mistake once, and it will never happen again.

"Hm. Well, I suppose I could come there if you want. I've been wanting to make this happen for some time. Is your brother a heavy sleeper? I don't wanna be blamed for waking him when I make you scream." Dean's throat closes up as his dick goes from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. Yes, he most definitely wants this. Weighing pros and cons is not nearly as easy to do with a raging hard on.

"Um…yeah," his voice cracks. Awesome. Now he's sweating fucking bullets. "That should be fine." Dean gives out the address and creeps downstairs to check on Sam. His brother is still sleeping peacefully, so he gently removes his shoes and covers him with a blanket before slipping out the back door to wait in the yard.

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><p>Sam jerked awake, feeling out of place. Something felt weird, and he looked around wildly. The room was dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he took in the living room and the couch he slept on. It felt late, and he wondered why Dean didn't come back for him. Standing, his joints popped loudly as they re-aligned in his growing body. Walking upstairs, he fumbled a bit on the bottom stair. When he finally made it to their room, the light was on but there was no Dean. The bathroom was also empty.<p>

Fear spiked cold and raw in his spine. Where would he have gone? Wouldn't he have left a note or something? "Dean?" Sam called loudly, his voice sounding young and scared. He searched the whole upstairs and saw no sign his brother had ever even been there. Adrenaline and panic took over, and he ran blindly down the stairs, flicking on every single light as he went. "DEAN!" His shouts seemed to echo in the empty house. Still dressed in jeans and a shirt, he ran out the front door-only to discover that he was barefoot- where the car still sat in the driveway. Sam circled the house until he came around to the back porch. Shadows moved there and the hunter in him snapped to the front. He flattened himself against the side of the house and slid around. Grunts and moans floated toward him in the night air and he wished he'd thought to grab a weapon.

Sam craned his neck around the corner, peeking at the motion on the porch. What he saw there shocked him so badly that he absolutely froze. It was like a horrible train accident that he was completely unable to look away from. It wasn't so surprising to find his brother having sex with someone. What surprised him was who Dean was having sex with. Sam recognized him-him!-from Dean's class. A guy named Ryan. Dean had him spread out on the porch swing, Ryan's legs wrapped around his hips tightly. They were thrusting hard against one another, Ryan sucking marks all over Dean's neck. Sam managed to find his legs and attempted to back away. Naturally, every last one of his sneaky ninja skills flew out the window, and he stepped on the one goddamned stick in the yard. The other boy's eyes popped open and locked on Sam's.

Dean didn't notice, and oddly all Sam could think about was how dangerous that is. For his brother to be so caught up in something that he couldn't hear giant feet sneaking up on him could be a death sentence. Ryan stilled, staring at Sam until Dean finally noticed something was wrong. "What is it, baby?" Sam never heard his brother sound like that before, raw like he'd had a sore throat. He followed Ryan's gaze over his shoulder and a look of horror took over his handsome face. That was when Sam's brain got with the program and convinced his legs to run.

Sam's thoughts were going a mile a minute. He didn't feel ready to face Dean, ready to handle the situation the best way possible. While he was surprised to find out his older brother is gay, that isn't even the biggest problem. Sam kept running down the street, barely feeling the gravel slicing the soles of his feet. He wanted to handle this the right way and he needed time. Dean would come looking for him soon and he would need to be ready.

An old barn was right down the road and he ducked inside it quickly, scaling the hayloft ladder. Tucking himself into the corner, he thought over what he saw. First and foremost, his brother is gay. Or at the very least bisexual. Everything Sam even knows about sex came from what Dean taught him. His brother still thought he was too young, so he didn't have vast knowledge to work with. There was a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, roiling around in there making him think he was going to vomit. Seeing Dean's face like that, so blissful and entirely wrapped up in another person made him queasy_. Jealous_, his brain provided. Stupid brain. It's mixing up shock with jealousy. Obviously, he has nothing to be jealous of. Dean is with him every single day of their lives. He deserves to have fun, and he deserves to have someone care about him in that way. Sam knows all of this logically. So why does his chest feel two sizes too small?


	2. Chapter 2

Okay so Dean was officially panicking. When he saw the look on Sam's face, he felt all of his organs shut down simultaneously. Humiliation, fear, shame, guilt-they all hit him in rapid succession. Sure, he'd wanted to tell Sam the truth about himself, but when he was older, and certainly not like that. Sam was just a kid for Christ sakes. Now, not only has he exposed his brother to sex, but to gay sex, with a guy he barely knows. Wow. He won't be winning any big brother of year awards with that one.

Dean couldn't seem to get his body to unlock until his brother disappeared around the corner. Ryan squirmed a little underneath him, unsure what his role was. "Um, Dean? Who was that?"

"My brother. Shit. Oh, shit. You gotta go. I'm sorry –I just-" Dean had his jeans up and buttoned in record time and he tore off after Sam in the night, leaving Ryan to put himself back together He probably won't be calling Dean for another date. Sam was nowhere to be found, with his uncanny ability to hide. Yes, Dean is a pretty awesome hunter, but Sam can be silent and sneaky, and apparently he can turn himself invisible. Dean searched the whole yard and found nothing. Jumping in the Impala, he searched every back road and street he could find. The town wasn't big, and as the sun came up, he went into full blown freak out mode. He was flip flopping violently between wanting to kill Sam the second he got his hands on him and holding him so tightly that they run the serious risk of fusing together.

Dad never left a number to find him, and if he couldn't find Sam soon he had no idea what he would do. The police were naturally a last ditch effort, but he'd be willing to blow their whole cover to the cops as long as they found his brother. The car idled and he wracked his brains for where Sam could be. He would hide somewhere safe where he can watch his back. Of course he's upset, but he's still a Winchester. Think, Dean, think. Where is he? Thinking he may have gone back to the house, Dean drove the Impala back the opposite way he left, now having searched the town in a full circle. The sun shone in his eyes and he squinted until the shadow of a passing building gave him some relief.

The building was only about a block away from their present home and Sam could have easily disappeared into it in the middle of the night. Dean slipped his gun in his pants before heading up to the door. Sliding inside, he searched around for any kind of danger or any sign of Sammy. The lower level didn't show much, just some abandoned farm equipment and random shit stowed away. The ladder up to the hayloft didn't look extremely sturdy but he scaled it without a moment's hesitation. Peeking up over the edge, he saw his brother huddled in the corner, sound asleep. Dean's sigh of relief was loud in his ears as he climbed right up beside him. Looking so small and young, Sammy was pressed tightly into the corner, his back to the wall. There were dirty tear tracks down his face and blood on the floor of the loft by his feet. Damn, he never should have taken off his shoes. Dean pressed his body against Sammy's and wrapped an arm around him. His brother instinctively cuddled closer, as if his subconscious knew it was Dean and he was safe.

He lay there for a while, breathing in the scent of Sammy and hay thanking whatever gods happened to be listening for keeping his brother safe. After about a half an hour he felt calm enough to wake him and finally have this discussion. Shaking his shoulder gently, he whispered comforting words. He didn't want Sammy to freak right out and attack him, waking up in a strange place.

"Sammy? Hey, wake up." Sam's whole body jolted into wakefulness, his eyes darting around wildly. "Hey, easy. It's just me. You're safe." The boy settled then, and practically threw himself into Dean's arms. Thank God he was far enough away from the ledge or the force of it would have thrown them both right over.

"Dean," he sobbed into his chest," I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have spied. I shouldn't have run away. I didn't mean it."

"Sshh. Hey. It's fine. I know you didn't mean to." He stopped smoothing Sammy's hair and cupped his small face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Look at me. This is not your fault. Okay? This is my fault. I was selfish and stupid, and I risked your life because of it. Again."

"Can we just go home? Please?" Sammy's eyes were still filled with tears as he spoke, and Dean rubbed his thumb over the cheeks where the salt spilled over. He pressed their foreheads together and fought his own wave of emotion.

"Yeah, Sammy. Let's go home." Dean released his brother and began descending the ladder. As Sam rose, he winced at the pain in his feet before crashing to his knees. "Sammy? You okay? Can you walk?" The soles of his feet were sliced to ribbons, and Dean's heart clenched. "Okay, come on. Hop on my back."

"Dean, no. I'm too big for that. I'm fine." Sam tried to rise again just to stumble. Dean rolled his eyes and scooped him up, earning a squeak from the younger boy, and slid his body onto his back.

"Hold on tight!" Before Sam could object, he was being carried down the ladder quickly, and Dean noticed how long his legs had gotten. Once the ladder was cleared, he began to run, the way he did when Sam was much smaller and piggy back rides were a regular thing. Sammy's laughter in his ear made him smile, so he added little hops and jumps to the run which just made him laugh harder. Once they reached the car, he opened the door and slid Sam inside. "Your chariot, my lady," he stated, bowing regally.

Rather than be offended at being called lady, Sam played along, which surprised the hell out of Dean, what with Sam being kind of hormonal lately. "Why thank you, good sir. I'll have tea in the drawing room once we've arrived at the manor," he said in a terrible British accent. Dean grinned at him and loped around to the front. Things felt good between them. They were relaxed and neither of them mentioned the night's events on the short drive back. Sam stayed in his seat when they arrived, rather than fight him on the piggyback thing. Wordlessly, Dean crouched in front of him on the ground and Sam slipped easily onto his back.

Dean carried Sam up the stairs and then dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. "Ride ends here, sweetheart." Ducking into the bathroom, he found the first aid kit and was back in seconds. "Sit back, so I can see your feet." Obeying silently, he scooted toward the edge of the bed and Dean pulled his gangly legs into his lap so he could see the injuries properly. "Jesus, Sammy. Your feet are filthy. You'll be lucky to avoid an infection. Hold on a second." Back in the bathroom, he soaked a rag in hot water before continuing to clean the cuts on his feet.

"Ouch!" Sam cried out on a particularly deep gash.

"Well! That'll teach you to run around barefoot in the middle of the night, smart guy."

He made a valiant effort not to say it, but he was still the little brother. Sometimes smart ass remarks slide right past his filter and he has zero chance of stopping them. "Well, maybe if I didn't have a reason to run." Dean froze, and Sam regretted his words the second they were out. Dean was being pretty cool about his running off after all. He could beat his ass, and Sam would deserve it. Dean finished doctoring Sam's feet after a slight pause. "Wait, Dean, I'm sorry. No, I didn't mean it like…"

"Lay back, Sammy. You'll need to stay off your feet for a while. But I think you'll live." Dean grinned at him then, and Sam was reminded just how handsome his brother is. Of course he had a boyfriend. He should have a boyfriend. Hell, he'd seen the women throw themselves at him left and right. He'd just never thought Dean had no interest, by the way he flirted. A series of emotions were flitting across Dean's face and didn't stop until he'd reached his decision. Landing on a firm mask of resolve, he shoved at Sam's legs. "Scoot over, would ya? We need to talk."

Oh, no."Dean it's fine. You don't need to explain yourself." Dean laid out beside him on the bed, his arm curling easily around his shoulders. Sam fought the urge to lean into his side-he was way too old for that now, thank you very much-but when he applied the slightest pressure with his fingertips, he gave in, snuggling closely into his brother.

"Yeah, I do actually. Look, I know you're young. But its time you knew. After all, you're the only person I'm sure I can trust. So, as you may have gathered by what you saw last night," he cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck and into his face. He took a deep breath and Sam felt like he could literally see his resolve turn to steel. He was gonna do this, and that was that. "I'm gay, Sammy. Now, you might be too young to fully understand what all that means, so I want to be very open and honest with you. All those girls I flirt with? It's kind of a cover. I mean, I'm terrified to think of what Dad would say. So here it is: my official coming out." He grinned hugely, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. Uncertainty and fear still hovered in his jade green eyes. "So, um…do you have any questions?"

Sam always has questions. He didn't think he'd be able to ask, but now that he can, they flood out of his mouth unhindered. "Who was that guy? I mean, I know his name is Ryan and he goes to school with you, but when did you even start hanging out with him? Is he your boyfriend now? Is he going to be hanging around the house? Who else knows? Will you be coming out out?" By the time he paused for a breath, Dean was chuckling.

"Whoa whoa there boy wonder. One thing at a time. No, Ryan is not my boyfriend, and he won't ever be. Especially not after last night, since I doubt he'll ever call again." Dean winced at this part, and Sam didn't know if it was because he'd miss the guy, or because he felt bad for running out on him. "He's just a guy from school, one who's been hitting on me for weeks. He's been quite open about it actually. Guys always ask me why I don't kick his ass, and I just laugh and say I'm not into gay bashing. No, he won't be around the house. I can't have him taking up my time for you. You still gotta be trained, after all." He shot Sam a smirk.

"No one else really knows. I mean, obviously Ryan knows. But you're the first person I've told, and I don't think I'll be coming all the way out. I feel better now, just having you know. Maybe someday, but I can't tell Dad just yet. What do you think of all this, Sammy? I mean, are you okay with it?" Dean looked legitimately afraid, like he just knew Sam was going to disown his gay brother.

"Dean, are you serious? Do you really think I care who you're attracted to? I don't care if you like guys. You're my big brother, and I'm always gonna have your back. You gotta know that. Just do me a favor, and try to be a bit more private when you're getting it on with someone, okay? I don't wanna see that. " Dean let out a breath that made him deflate, like his whole body was tensing for attack. Head lolling back on the pillow, he cracked up into almost hysterical laughter. Sam smiled at his brother's laughter, but his heart still constricted in funny ways when he thought of Dean having sex with anyone at all.

"Oh my God, you have no idea how relieved I am. I thought you'd hate me, or tell me I'm gross. Or hell, at the very least tell me not to touch you. Don't want you to catch the gay." The arm around his body tightened slightly, as if he thought Sam was going to squirm away. This was the most relaxed he'd seen his brother in weeks.

Sam snuggled impossibly closer, his head on Dean's chest and listened to his heartbeat. Years spent falling asleep to the sound lulled him into drowsiness. Dean laid his hand on Sam's back, fingers scratching the skin gently. Their bodies no longer fitting in the twin bed the way they once did, they had to squish together and Sam yawned against Dean's soft t-shirt. "You can't catch gay. That's just silly." Sam heard his words start to slur, and the world began slipping away as he drifted into sleep. He couldn't make out Dean's words, mumbled into his hair, but he felt his body being completely surrounded, warm, comfortable-safe.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Hello lovelies! Here is chapter three. I'm on a roll, so they're coming out fast for now! A very special thank you to TwinchesterAngel for her help with this chapter, as well as indulging in some of my late night ramblings. Remember, reviews are love!

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><p>"Sam. Wake up! Time for school!" Dean stood on Sam's bed, his feet on either side of his hips and bounced, causing the whole bed to shake like an earthquake. Sam groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. "No, no. No more sleep. Come on! Dad came home last night." So that explains the chipper mood.<p>

"Why are you in such a good mood at," he squinted at the clock, "7 am? Shouldn't you be a zombie until your third cup of coffee?"

"Yup! Already had it! Come on, I'm sure you've got Math-letes or some other nerd boy thing to do in school." He started bouncing the mattress harder with each word. "So get your ass up!" Finally he jumped off the bed and headed for the door to the bathroom. Over his shoulder he called "Oh, and we're blowing town tomorrow. So tell your friends goodbye."

Sam continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling. Great, another move, he thought. There were no friends he needed to say goodbye to, but as usual, he wished there were. It made sense that Dean would be happy to go, since he'd been waiting all week for the fall-out from Ryan. Dean didn't have to say anything. Everything Sam needed to know was written in his brother's body language. Every day when they left for school together, his back was ramrod straight, his teeth on edge, and every afternoon when he waited outside to pick Sam up from his own school, he was calm and happy.

Rolling out of bed, he groped around for the jeans he wore yesterday. These were already getting short at the ankle, just like all his other pairs. He yanked them down as far as he could without flashing his ass and searched out an extra-long t-shirt. Just as he was finishing his prayer not to grow too tall, Dean emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his lips. "Jeez, finally," he mumbled around the brush. "Feet still bothering you?" Sam realized he was still limping a bit and straightened his walk.

"They're fine. Happy for your last day here?" Sam's voice was sharper than he intended and Dean's eyes narrowed at his tone. He finished brushing his teeth before answering.

"Hell yeah. Not only that but it's Friday! Got a date tonight and the very real excuse that I won't be here tomorrow," he said looking in the mirror. Sam squeezed into their bathroom behind him and tried to shove him away from the sink. Dean was shirtless and Sam's hand slid right over his arm when his brother didn't budge.

"You rockin'a new 'last day of school' look? Mind getting dressed while I finish up in here?"

"Aw, Sammy. You're so cute when you bitch." Dean grinned and exited the bathroom. Sam scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He hadn't missed the part where Dean said he had a date. He also failed to miss the part where he also made it very clear that he was going for a one night stand. His stomach did that weird, fluttery thing and he couldn't figure out why. Physically, he was fine, but his stomach was convincing him he had the flu. Shaking his head, he finished getting ready for school.

John sat at the breakfast table, coffee and newspaper in front of him. Sam plopped down in a chair on the other side of his father. "Morning, son. How was your week?" Well, Sam thought, I found out my brother is gay, ran away, busted up my feet, and now I have no idea why I feel sick to my stomach. How was yours?

"Fine." He pulled the box of Fruity Pebbles forward and made a bowl. Internally, he smiled at the thought of Dean buying them for him. They're his favorite.

"Okay then. Well I called the school, so you're all set. Just pick up your transfer papers at the end of the day, alright?"

"Mhm." Sam pretended to be very engrossed in the nutrition portion of the box-and wow, there is a lot of sugar in this cereal- and John gave up trying to pull him into conversation. A few minutes later, Dean practically hopped down the stairs.

"Don't know if I should be worried about your good mood, Dean." John hid a small smile behind his coffee cup.

"Nah. Just excited to get out of here tomorrow."

"Uh-huh. What's her name?" John raised an eyebrow and Sam snorted into his cereal.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Dean recovered nicely and shot Sam a look. "Hurry up, brother. Gotta get goin'."

"Have a good day, boys," John called without looking up from the paper.

Once they were in the car, Dean rounded on him. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Sam tried his best innocent voice, but his brother was on to him.

"That little laugh thing. Are you trying to out me to Dad or something? I didn't expect that from you Sammy. I thought I could trust you!" Dean was yelling now, growing angrier with each word.

"Dean come on! Of course not! I laughed because it was funny. I couldn't help it. You know I would never out you. That's a decision you have to make." He gripped the steering wheel, jaw tight.

Finally, he sighed. "I know. I know you didn't mean anything by it. You wouldn't do that to me. I'm just…a little stressed. Ready to get out of this town."

Sam nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes of silence, he had to ask Dean the question plaguing his mind. "So, um. Is it true? Do you really have a date tonight? With who?"

"Not yet. But hey, it's our last night in town. I'll have a date before school is out." They pulled up to the curb at Sam's school and Dean turned to look at him. His eyes sparkled with the look that said he was up to no good. "I'll pick you up at 3…"

"Same as always," Sam finished the sentence for him. His brother smiled and leaned across the seat to ruffle his hair.

"Have a good day, nerd boy." Sam rolled his eyes and headed toward the school building. He paused at the door and turned back to watch Dean drive away. Every day he turned back to watch Dean drive to his own school and for about thirty seconds, he was able to see behind all of his masks. Sam smiled as Dean fixed his hair and primped in the mirror. Sometimes he could be such a douche. As his brother drove away, Sam's heart did flip flops as he considered Dean's mirror time and realized he most definitely would have a date tonight. Sighing he trudged off to class.

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><p>Dean loved this part the most. He loved his last day of school in each new town. For some reason, it always gave him this intense feeling of freedom, knowing he could do or say anything and it wouldn't matter because he wouldn't be here to deal with the consequences. Silently, he ran through the list of guys he was interested in as he walked toward History class. What did he have to lose? He narrowed it down to guys he was sure were gay, and ran through his most charming pick-up lines. Lost in his own mind, he didn't see anyone else until he bowled someone over.<p>

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry man. I didn't see you there." The guy was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by books and papers Dean had knocked out of his hands. He bent to help pick them up.

"Ah, no big. I wasn't exactly paying attention either. I…" the guy looked up and locked eyes with Dean. Ryan. Double oh shit. "Oh. Hey, Dean," he said awkwardly.

"Hey. Um. How ya been?" He handed over the last of the school stuff and stood, extending his hand to help Ryan up.

"Oh, good. You know," he said shifting his gaze away from Dean's face. A few silent seconds ticked by, and both boys spoke at the same time. "I better get going…"

"Look, I'm really sorry…" They both laughed.

"Uh, you go first," Ryan said, eyeing the emptying halls.

"I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry about, you know. That night." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Oh, nothing to apologize for. How's your brother? Scarred for life?" Ryan's mouth lifted into a smile, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Actually, he handled it pretty well. He tends to run away when he's freaked out, so that was nothing new. That kid's gonna be the death of me one day." Dean hadn't noticed his gradual shift toward Ryan until he felt like he was way too close. The other boy ran a hand absently through his jet black hair, and Dean could smell the shampoo he used. He shuffled back a few steps. The bell rang and both boys nearly jumped out of their skin.

"Ah, well. Guess I better go. See ya around," Ryan said as he headed away.

"Hey, wait up a second," Dean called. He jogged down the hall toward him. "Look, um, tonight is my last night in town. My brother and I are moving. You wouldn't wanna go out with me tonight, would you?" Hm, where did all those smooth, savvy lines go? Ryan's face broke into a huge grin, and Dean noticed for the first time that he had dimples. They weren't quite as pronounced as Sammy's but cute anyway.

"Um yeah. Sure, that sounds awesome."

"Okay, how bout 7:30? I'll meet you downtown by the old theater?" Dean's heart was hammering, and he had no idea why he was so nervous. He already had sex with the guy. A date shouldn't be a big deal.

"I'll be there." Ryan grinned one final time and trailed his fingers down Dean's arm. He turned and decided he was way too late for History class. He headed instead toward the doors and exited the school. He decided to ditch his last day, and just come back for the transfer papers.

At three o'clock exactly, he was waiting outside Sammy's school. His brother's shaggy hair was visible above all the kids in his grade already, and Dean could see him looking down at the paper in his hands, hunched in on himself as if it would make him shorter. Dean's heart ached a little as none of the kids even looked at Sam. No one said goodbye or hugged him. They just walked right past him as if he didn't exist and Dean wanted to scream at them that they missed out on knowing a great kid. But he didn't. He waited instead for Sam to look up and see him waiting there.

Once Sam looked away from his papers, his eyes locked instantly on Dean's. He smiled at his brother and waved him over, and Sam's whole face lit up. It never failed to give Dean some private satisfaction that he can make Sammy smile like that, and no one else can. He doesn't even have to do anything special; just picking him up from school or buying him his favorite food for dinner and Sammy just lights up like a damn Christmas tree.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam slid into the front seat and tossed his bag in the back.

"Hey. How was school?" He pulled away from the curb carefully, since nobody taught the kids in Sam's school to look both ways.

"Fine. I got my report card as a parting gift."

"Oh yeah? Hand it over." Dean looked it over as he stopped at a red light. Straight A's, perfect attendance and a glowing recommendation from his teacher. Jesus. Dean's pretty sure his math teacher left a "fuck you" in one of his comment boxes. "Wow, Sammy! Nice work. I'm impressed." Sam blushed slightly and Dean decided to let it go. Normally, he'd tease Sam all day for it, but he was proud and deserved to be.

"So? Did you get your date?" Sam asked the question teasingly, and Dean wondered if he thought about it all day.

"You know it. Wasn't even in school longer than an hour." Hey, Dean had his own achievements to be proud of.

"Oh really? So who's the sucker you conned into a date?" Dean floundered for a second, wondering if he should tell Sam the truth.

"Um, actually it's Ryan. Yeah, we're meeting up later." He glanced at his brother's face, trying to gauge his reaction. Sam ran through a few emotions, each too quick for Dean to guess before settling his face into a mask of calm.

"Oh, Ryan from last week? That's cool. Have fun." Sam said and he jumped out of the car the second it was in park in front of their place. Sometimes, Dean just really doesn't understand that kid.

Sam watched Dean drive away from their bedroom window. He had a date with Ryan. ANOTHER date with Ryan his brain informed him. What if Dean loves this guy? Sam wondered what would happen if his brother fell in love with Ryan and pined after him from miles and states away. Would Dean be sad forever after being taken away from a guy he loved? Sam had never been in love, and never seen it first-hand but from what he gathered from the books he read, it never worked out, keeping two people apart who love each other.

Finally he turned away from the window and settled on his bed to read. The words swam before his eyes and he couldn't focus. Jealousy was the only name for the emotion raging inside him that he could come up with. The only thing he couldn't figure out was why he was so jealous in the first place. Dean still spent time with him, training him and just hanging out. Ryan was a nice guy, but he was pretty sure he wasn't jealous of that. His mind latched onto that idea. What if he was jealous because his brother had Ryan? Suddenly, he had a sort of boyfriend, and Sam felt miserable. What if he was jealous of Dean because he wanted a boyfriend? Oh man. Maybe Sam really did catch gay.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello my lovelies. So, I'm frustrated with this chapter and it fought me a bit on the way. I hope yall still like and leave reviews about what you would possibly like to see next. I'm always down for a few plot bunnies! Enjoy!**

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><p>Dean slammed Sam down into the grass hard. Then he sat on his chest and just laughed. "Gotta be quicker than that, Sammy! What, you think a ghost is just gonna tell you when and how it's gonna attack?" Sam struggled and tried to shove him off, but his brother still had a good thirty pounds on him. Sam grew bigger every day and with attitude to match, but at eighteen, Dean still over powered him. Dean teased him, twirling blades of grass in his ears and poking him in the forehead.<p>

"It's SAM and get off me! You weigh like a million pounds!" Sam shoved at his chest again and he finally got up.

"Hey! I'm hurt! I keep in pretty good shape. You're just mad that you can't beat me!" He danced out of the way of Sam's foot, trying to take him out at the knees. _Goddamn hormones_ Sam grumbled internally. He shifted on the ground and imagined the least sexy things he could think of in an attempt to get his hard-on under control. Even _his brother_ being that close to him confused his body. Logically, his brain knew that sparring was not the same as sex, but damned if his body would get the freakin' memo. "What you takin' a break down there, Sammy? Fine then. Guess I'd need a break too, if I just got my ass beat." Dean flopped down into the grass, barely breaking a sweat. Damn him.

Sam took the moment to lean back and soak up the summer sun. Summer in Colorado was nice, and he secretly wished they could stay and he could go to school here. It was barely June, however, so that was a long shot. He'd spent the last three years experimenting-secretly of course-with his sexuality. He kissed a few boys and some girls too. There were times when he would watch a movie with a handsome male lead and he'd find himself thinking the guy was attractive but only aesthetically so. He'd like the eyes of one actor, just to discover that they were jade green, like Dean's. Maybe he found himself drawn to someone else's jawline or cheekbones and realized again that they looked like Dean in that one single aspect.

It seemed that no matter which way he turned, he came full circle back to his brother. And that creeped him out. Maybe it was because of his horribly dysfunctional upbringing, or the simple fact that Dean was the center of his universe, but the older Sam got the more unclear his feelings for his brother became. He didn't quite feel prepared to deal with that particular brand of weirdness, so he settled on the decision that he was straight and shoved the rest of it aside for later.

"Sammy? Hellloooo? Anyone in there?" Dean was propped up on one elbow, leaning close to his face when his voice finally pulled Sam from his thoughts. He jerked back instantly, away from the full mouth and questioning eyes.

"Whoa. Dude. Personal space. What?"

"Sorry! You we're just way zoned out. You know it freaks me out when escape into Sam-land." Dean stood and put his hand out to help Sam up. "I'm starving. I can't believe I let you…" The rest of the thought was cut off as Sam used his leverage to jerk his brother back down. Caught by surprise, Sam had seconds to gain the upper hand. He rolled Dean onto his back and placed his feet on each of his outstretched arms at the elbow, and had him successfully pinned. "Oh, you cheating bastard. You wait til I get up." He tried moving his arms, but Sam pushed his feet down harder, laughing the whole time.

"Oh you're just jealous, big brother! I finally got you down, and now you can't take it." Sam poked him in the chest a few times for emphasis. Dean stilled, and something dark flared in his eyes that Sam didn't understand. That momentary distraction was all he needed, and Sam ended up on his back-again- in half a second flat.

"Okay, now that you've been put in your place-_little_ brother- let's go eat. I'm starving." With that he jumped up and strode toward the house. Sam lay there a minute longer, considering the way Dean's body felt underneath his. _No, no._ Sam shook his head violently, refusing to acknowledge the dark desire hidden beneath his smiles.

Later, the three of them had lunch at a local diner. Sam and Dean were squished into a booth together and John sat across from them, papers spread out around him. Dean shouldered him for more room and Sam pushed back.

"Boys. Come on, you're not kids anymore. Be still," John told them.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, and stilled instantly.

"Yeah. That's kind of the problem," Sam said, rolling his eyes at Dean.

"What is?" John asked.

"We're not kids anymore, and we barely fit in one booth. We're not struggling just to struggle."

"Fine. Fair enough. Just settle, please. I don't want to argue, Sam." John retreated back to his papers, and Sam opened his mouth to say something else. Dean's hand appeared on his knee, squeezing gently. He looked up at his brother, who begged him to be silent with his eyes. Sighing, Sam backed down. Once he was sure Sam was done fighting, he removed his hand and Sam could still felt the heat there, like a phantom limb. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of Dean's leg pressing against his. It seemed to take all of his effort not to press back against him more closely.

The waitress appeared with their food, and her eyes skated down Dean's body in a very obvious way. She placed a napkin beside his plate and smiled at him. "If you boys need anything else, just holler." Dean made a big show of checking her out as she walked away and Sam rolled his eyes again. Dean tucked the napkin in his pocket, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Wow, Son. Guess I can't take you anywhere. It seems like every town we stop in you collect phone numbers." John smiled broadly, practically beaming at Dean. His son, the lady killer. Dean shrugged like it was no big deal and went back to his burger.

"Give me a break," Sam huffed under his breath. Dean nudged him with his knee.

"Aw, Sammy. It's okay to be a little jealous," John began.

"It's Sam. And I'm not jealous." He was extremely jealous actually. Just not for the reasons his father thought.

"One day, _Sam_, you'll be old enough, and you'll be raking in the phone numbers too. Oh I see it even now. You're turning heads! I've got two good lookin' kids, that's for sure." John went back to his papers and Sam eyed Dean over his salad.

_You're ridiculous,_ Sam made his eyes say.

_Shut up,_ Dean glared in return. Sometimes, the only thing Sam wanted was for his brother to be happy, and to be who he really is. Sam glanced over at the young guy a few tables over. He was handsome, and had been checking Dean out subtly over the course of their time there. He looked away once he saw Dean ogle the waitress and didn't glance back, clearly assuming Dean was straight. While it was painful for Sam to imagine his brother with _anyone _at all, Sam would rather be jealous over someone who could truly make his brother happy.

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><p>Dean sat on the hood of the Impala alone, parked out in the middle of nowhere. Leaning back against the windshield, he closed his eyes and thought. Sometimes it was nice to get away and just be alone for a little while. The only problem was that when he closed his eyes for too long, images made their way uninvited across his eyelids. Under normal circumstances, he never let himself think about these things, and certainly never around his dad or Sammy. But alone, underneath a summer night sky he indulged in a bit of his own depravity.<p>

He played back the afternoon's training session with Sammy. God, but that kid was getting fast. Strong too. Dean did his best to play it cool, like his little brother could never beat him in a fight, but he was barely fourteen and already his own height, and still growing. One day, he is going to be a monster to fight. After all, he was able to catch Dean by surprise once that day, and that seems to be the part he was fixated on. Not only was it awesome that Sam was getting good enough to be an even match for him, but something dark and disturbing coiled in the back of his brain at the thought of Sam pinning him to the ground.

Yes, Dean came to terms with the fact that he liked guys, but that is not the same as having a crush on his brother. His _fourteen year old_ little brother. God, he had to be some kind of sick, fucked up freak to think this way about him. Which is why-he reminded himself- he never did it. Once the flood gates opened, it was damn near impossible to close them again as image after image bombarded him until he couldn't take anymore and he slammed the door shut on his mind. Instead, he thought back to the guy at the restaurant.

He was tall and good looking. Actually, he was the first thing Dean noticed upon entering the room. The guy was all smiles at the girl he was with, so he was obviously straight. Blonde hair and brown eyes were a nice combination in his strong face and he spared Dean a glance and a smile as they passed his table. Dean tried to imagine what it would be like with him, whether he was a top or bottom guy, and the further he got into his fantasy the more lost he became.

Slowly, almost unnoticed by his conscious mind, the images began to shift. Suddenly, the guy was a brunette instead of a blonde. That was fine though, as Dean preferred dark hair anyway. Next, his eyes lightened up from brown to a brown-blue mix that he found appealing. Then, the guy was thinner and was no longer the guy from the diner at all. Actually he was Sam. Dean's eyes flew open and he sat straight up, finding his hand down his pants where it had no business being.

"FUCK!" Shouting always made him feel better, for some reason. Jumping off the car, he paced back and forth, cursing himself the whole way. The next best thing to shouting his frustrations out? Drinking them out. He headed to a bar in town where his fake ID got him only a little trouble. Sometimes, he really wished he could grow out of the baby face already. Luckily, he was pretty much always able to charm his way inside of anywhere.

At the bar, he ordered his usual and tried to resist banging his head on the bar top. He deserved to be beaten for this. Worse, even. Sammy trusted him, and here he was thinking of him like that. No, it had to stop. He slammed his drink quickly and ordered another, never looking up. The bartender slid his drink over and paused. Dean could feel the eyes on him, and the presence of someone watching him was unnerving. He was about to say something when the bartender spoke first.

"Hey, you look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" The bartender used the most obvious pick up line in history. Hell, Dean himself used it from time to time. He jerked his head up with some witty remark at the ready before he recognized the guy. Huh. He really did know him from somewhere.

"Oh yeah. Yeah you were at that restaurant today. Huh. Small world."

"Nah. Just a small town .I love that place, though. Best burgers ever."

"I don't know man. I've been a few places. The diner's was good, but it's got nothing on this little dive I found in Chicago once. You wouldn't even believe it."

"Well, I guess I'll have to try it sometime." The guy's gaze lingered, and Dean stuck out his hand.

"I'm Dean." Simple, to the point.

"Jake. Nice to meet you Dean."

"So, the girl you were with today. She like the burgers there too?" Maybe not subtle, but whatever works.

"Oh, no. My sister is more of a salad girl, actually." He made a disgusted face, and Dean grinned. _Sister, not girlfriend. We're halfway there._

"Yeah, I hear ya. My brother too." They spent the next hour chatting across the bar until Dean was able to establish that he was indeed gay. Score. The third best solution to banishing things he didn't want to think about? Fucking them out. Yes, Dean Winchester was a master at avoiding unpleasant thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello lovelies! I hope yall are still with me. Sorry for the wait on this one. It's the first piece I didn't already have written. As always, I hope yall enjoy. Special thanks to alyxxwincest for his help on this chapter!**

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><p>Sam lay in bed, unable to sleep. He glanced across the space between the two beds where his father slept soundly. Actually, with the way his dad had been drinking, he was pretty much dead to the world. Dean wasn't home yet, and Sam always had a hard time sleeping without his brother next to him. Granted, it was a struggle sharing a bed with Dean every night for so many reasons. Not only did they barely fit together anymore, but Sam had to fight every natural desire to plaster his body to Dean's. Because, well, it <em>wasn't <em>a natural desire. He knew he wasn't supposed to feel this way, and that he shouldn't want his brother like this, but that didn't stop it from being true.

Every night he had to lay on his hands to force them to behave, and enumerated all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to roll over and press his lips against Dean's. He always worried when his brother stayed out this late. Monsters lurked everywhere, and it was next to impossible to sleep soundly without Dean beside him. It was pretty obvious that they were way too old to be sharing a bed, but the few times they'd brought up getting separate beds to their dad, the arguments had been halfhearted. They pretty much only complained about the bed sharing because they knew they should be more bothered by it. Sam always breathed a sigh of relief when their dad vetoed the idea anyway. Dad wanted everyone in the same room most of the time for sleeping, and in the rare event that they stayed in a two-bedroom place, the boys pretty much always shared a bed anyway. It was comfortable and normal for them. Sam got the idea that Dean didn't want to sleep in separate beds any more than he did. Otherwise, surely he would have mentioned it when he was thirteen and first began out growing Sam.

The door clicked quietly downstairs and Sam tensed. While he was 98% certain it was Dean, there was always that small chance that is was something else. The clock read 4 am, and Dean had been gone since 7 pm the night before. The boot falls were familiar, so he relaxed as his brother entered the room. He shut his eyes and feigned sleep, listening to Dean's clothes fall to the floor. His brother circled the bed until he was facing Sam, staring at him. He fought the urge to squirm under Dean's intense gaze and relaxed once he felt a hand on his face. Dean stroked his cheekbone and brushed the hair back from his face. The touch was so gentle, Sam felt like his insides were melting. Dean wasn't soft like this often, and pretty much only ever with Sam. He felt like he was seeing behind the curtain, the way Dean behaved when he thought nobody was watching. It made him curious as to how often his brother does this while he's sleeping.

Finally, Dean circled back to the other side of the bed and slid between the sheets. Sighing, he rolled to the side and wrapped an arm around Sam's body, pulling him in closely. This wasn't anything unusual, since Dean secretly liked cuddling, even if he'd never admit it out loud. Sam tried to control his heart rate; afraid Dean would discover he was actually awake and stop all of this tender touching. Sam could smell the cologne on Dean, and knew it was another guy's. That was almost enough to send his heart crashing through the soles of his feet. However, his brother began pressing his face against his neck and all other thoughts flew out of his head.

He's fairly certain his brother has never nuzzled-yes, he was _nuzzling-_ him before. At least never while he was awake, and that was just a damn shame. Sam was torn between rolling over to face Dean to see what would happen, and continuing to play dead. At least while he was faking sleep he got all of this affection. Who knows what might happen if he forced Dean to acknowledge his actions? It would probably never happen again, and that would be worse. Finally, he settled down to sleep and pressed a feather light kiss to the back of Sam's neck and one behind his ear. He fought the need to shiver from sheer pleasure.

"Good night, Sammy," he whispered in his ear. "I love you." Sam reeled at this. Obviously, he knew Dean loved him. He proved it every day by his actions and the look in his eyes. But to confess it out loud –even if he thought no one was listening-was something entirely different. Sam couldn't remember the last time Dean said he loved him, and he felt like he could cry from the joy of hearing it. Dean's breathing evened out as he slipped into sleep, and Sam used to opportunity to scoot even closer in the circle of his arms. They probably wouldn't wake up like this, but it was nice just knowing he had Dean this way, even for a moment. That was when he decided not to be jealous of Dean's guys anymore. After all, no matter how many guys he went out with, he always came home to Sam.

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><p>Dean woke later than usual, due to his late night with Jake. He flung his hand out, instantly searching for Sam. The bed was empty, as was his dad's across the way. The clock glowed 10:45 am. Damn. Later than usual, but not as bad as it could have been. He lay there, stretching out and lazing rather than getting up right away. After a few minutes he swung his legs over the side of the bed and went to the window. The Impala was there, but his dad's truck was missing.<p>

Heading downstairs, he decided to hit the bathroom before searching out the coffee. He reached the door and heard the shower running. Damn, Sam and his stupidly long showers. Just as he was about to raise his fist to bang on the door, he heard soft grunts and moans coming from the bathroom. He paused and shamelessly eavesdropped. Clearly, Sam was having some "happy time", which should not have made Dean want to listen harder. He stopped short of pressing his ear to the door, but only barely. Shaking his head, he remembered himself, and that this was his fourteen year old little brother. _Fucking perv,_ he cursed himself. He turned away, but right then he made out Sam's words, and they sounded frighteningly like his name.

Now he craned his head, listening again to see if he'd heard right. Sure enough, as Sam reached his climax he sighed out "Dean". Oh. Shit. Dean turned and headed back for the kitchen, making his coffee like he'd planned to. His mind ran circles around what he heard. He considered all the possible meanings: Sam was just a horny teenager. Maybe it's not weird that he fixated on his brother. Maybe he has feelings for Dean that are less than brotherly. The worst part was how he kept coming back around to his own feelings for Sam, feelings he could never act upon. Being the big brother meant many things, and one of them was being strong enough to be the one that says "no".

His guts twisted into knots as he thought of flat out rejecting any advances Sam would ever make. God, but he wanted it. The only thing he could hope for was that he would be strong enough to never act on his desires. Shit, who was he kidding? Dean has never been the most temperate person, and if the very thing he wants most in the world wants him back, how can he deny that? Not to mention Sam's begging face. That face could stop wars and end world hunger if his brother set his mind to it. He had Dean totally wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it.

Right then, Sam came into the kitchen where Dean was conducting his battle of self-hatred. He was shirtless, his hair still damp and his jeans already too short again. "Hey," Dean said barely looking away from the floor.

"Hey! Glad to see you made it home alive."  
>"Oh, yeah. I had a late one last night." He turned his back on Sam, trying desperately not to stare at his eyes. Or his chest, for that matter. When did he start growing muscles?<p>

"Mhm. I noticed. So who was he?" Sam was suddenly right beside him, reaching for the coffee pot and smelling clean. Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jeez. I'm just getting coffee, not trying to stab you. Are you okay?" Sam did that soul deep eye stare thing he does-without realizing it, Dean was sure-and he squirmed away.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just, you know how I feel about you saying shit like that just right out in the open where anybody could hear."

"Dean, Dad's gone. I checked before coming in here. You know I wouldn't just take a risk like that. What's up with you anyway?" Sam pursed his lips, blowing on his coffee. Damn him.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Look, the guy was just…just a guy. Someone I met at the bar. No big."  
>Sam nodded his head and casually said, "Ah. So you gonna see him again?" Dean narrowed his eyes, wondering why Sam was so interested and exactly how casual he really felt about the whole thing.<p>

"Why so interested all of a sudden? What happened to keeping it private?"

"Dean, I just meant I don't want to _see_ you in the middle of screwing some random guy. That doesn't mean I don't care or have no interest in who you see. Just making conversation about my big brother's life is all." Sam laughed, but it had a strained sound to it.

"Right," Dean remarked suspiciously.

"Oh, like you'd wanna see me doing that with somebody. Like it wouldn't freak you out. 'Cause let me tell you: that's not something you just forget." Dean's heart clenched painfully both at the thought of Sam ever having sex with someone, and also at the memory of his brother catching him with that guy. No, he definitely would not be interested in seeing that.

"Okay. Look I'm gonna go out for a bit. Just practice your knife throwing for a while, okay?"

"Sure," Sam said, but he stared at Dean with confusion written all over his features. Dean ran upstairs and changed out of his sweats and was dressed in record time. His baby was a sanctuary, and she was always the best place for him to clear his head. "Bye Sammy," he called over his shoulder on his way out the door. He didn't wait to hear Sam's response.

Once in the car, he drove for what seemed like forever. He turned the situation over and over again in his mind. One think was absolutely certain: he could NOT have these feelings for Sam. Since he couldn't pursue Sam the way he would any other man he was interested in, the best thing to do was to ignore it completely. Now, Sam would say this was not a healthy solution, and then try to talk the whole thing to death. Dean is a simple guy, and the simplest solution to the problem was to ignore it.

Smiling, he felt infinitely better about the situation. He had tons and tons of crap buried deep inside of him that would never see the light of day. Relief flooded his system, having finally come up some way to handle his feelings for his brother. Logically, he understood that this was just a Band-Aid, and in no way solved the real problem, but he felt content with it. He was certain he could just ignore it and it would go away, at least for the moment, and that was all that he cared about for the time being.

Cranking up the music, he sang along-badly and loudly. He enjoyed the moment of peace and freedom, even if it was from himself and his own sickness. Sam didn't deserve a brother like Dean, so he would work extra hard to be worthy of him, and that included a lock in his own feelings. So that is exactly what he did.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! So sorry for the delay in this chapter. RL plus sickness tried to get me down. As always, hope yall enjoy!**

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><p>*TWO YEARS LATER*<p>

Sam walked the halls of school silently. He was deep in thought about his brother-as usual. They'd been in this town in Alabama for about two months and they both hated it. Dean finally dropped out, but achieved his GED rather quickly thereafter. Sam was determined to graduate, no matter how complicated all the moves made his life. Two years ago, Dean began detaching himself from Sam. Some of the distance was subtle, such as never touching him unless it was necessary. He no longer patted him, or rubbed his hair. Sam missed the close physical contact he'd always had with his brother, and he couldn't understand what changed.

The worst change had been the day Dean refused to share a bed with him anymore. When their dad argued about the safety, he opted to sleep on the floor rather than in the bed with Sam. There were nights when Dean slept in chairs, on sofas, or in sleeping bags, but no matter how much Sam tried to convince him to come back, he would not share the bed anymore. In reality, Sam should be rejoicing. He gets a bed to himself, which is ideal due to his size. Besides, what sixteen year old wants to share a bed with his brother? However, Sam was not happy about it. Everything felt different and cold now. He still only slept on one half, just in case Dean changed his mind and wanted to crawl in beside him. These were the things Sam thought about on his way to English. Which is why he failed to notice that he was about to be targeted for some bullying.

"Oh, well. Look here, boys. Sammy Winchester, boy genius. How's it goin' Sammy?" Patrick West was a nightmare to most kids, but Sam was pretty much able to fly under the radar. Until that day, anyway. He always tried to avoid tangling with the "tough kids", but sometimes it was just unavoidable.

"It's Sam. Get out of the way, Patrick," Sam said, trying to sidestep the crowd gathering around. Nobody likes to be picked on, but nobody will stop it when it's happening to someone else. He clenched his fists and ran through a few Latin verses, trying to keep his cool and the hunter inside of him locked up tight.

"Nah. I think today is your day, Sammy boy!" Patrick shoved Sam between the shoulder blades, and made random taunts that he supposed were supposed to hurt his feelings. He reigned in his temper, remembering not to expose his fighting abilities in school. He didn't fall, but stumbled a bit on his coltishly long legs. Throwing a hateful glare over his shoulder, he just kept walking. Students called him all manner of names when they discovered there wouldn't be a fight, but Sam didn't care. It wasn't worth the trouble. At least, if Patrick had kept his fucking mouth shut, it wouldn't have been a problem.

"Hey Sammy?" Patrick called loudly down the hall. "Did you know your brother is a fag?" Sam froze, and everything around him seemed to stop. His heart thundered in his chest and he slowly turned back to face the crowd.

"What did you say?" Sam's tone was like ice, and he was already running through the various ways he could actually kill this stupid asshole. He wouldn't, but he would still love to.

"Ooh. I guess you didn't know. Yeah, he tried picking my cousin up in a bar last night. Guess he thought he could get some kind of action out of a straight guy. What a fucking moron! My cousin kicked his ass up and down that place!" Sam knew that wasn't true. First of all, no one could beat Dean down, and he'd come home last night without a scratch on him. But that wasn't the point. Sam's vision clouded and he saw red as he slowly stalked toward Patrick.

"I'm gonna say this only once. _NO ONE _talks about my brother like that. Do you understand me?" Sam was practically growling, and he was quite proud of himself for not turning the kid's face into hamburger.

"Is that so? Like what? That he's a disgusting fucking fairy boy?" Patrick turned his head to the side, laughing and smiling at some crony off to his left. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Once the boy turned his head, Sam threw his fist into Patrick's jaw with all his force. Caught by surprise, he stumbled and people jumped out of the way. Sam was so angry he felt like he was watching himself fight this kid. Patrick turned out to be a pretty decent fighter. While he was no match for Sam, he got a few lucky shots in, splitting Sam's lip and bruising up his eye. Mostly, he got the shots in by blindly throwing his hands around. Sam kept his fists flying and finally got Patrick on the floor by kicking out his knees. He knew he was going too far and he needed to stop but he couldn't. He sat on Patrick and slammed his fist into his nose with a satisfying crunch.

"Hey hey! BREAK IT UP!" Someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him to his feet. While he felt vindicated, a wave of guilt crashed over him as he took in Patrick's bloody face. The kid never had a chance against Sam, so it certainly wasn't a fair fight. He threw his hands up in surrender and let the teacher lead him to the principal's office. Sam probably didn't feel as bad as he should. That jerk deserved what he got. He bullied people around and then couldn't take it when he finally messed with the wrong guy. He tried to convince himself that he'd been right, but he knew he'd probably feel really bad about Patrick's nose later.

Sam sat in the principal's office with a baggie of ice over his lip. It was swollen and hot to the touch. He was barely scraped, and had gotten worse injuries sparring with Dean. "Sam? Sam are you listening?" Principal Greene was calling him, jerking him from his thoughts. "What happened?"

Fidgeting, he debated what he should say. Yes, it was Dean's secret, but if some asshole in his school knew, then it wasn't very secret. "Look, Patrick is a jerk. He's a bully and picks on kids every day. Today he chose me, and I fought back." Sam shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. Principal Greene sighed.

"Yes, I've had a few complaints about Patrick, but unfortunately you fought on school property. There is a zero tolerance policy for violence. Other than your moves you have a spotless record," he said, referring to the papers in front of him. "You're an honor roll student, perfect attendance. The best I can do is a three-day suspension. That's the standard punishment for fighting. Gather up your homework and we'll call your father to come get you. You're dismissed." Sam rose to his full height and left the office without a word.

Dean walked down the hall toward the office. School gave him the creeps. Actually, he was really surprised he was even here. The school called looking for John, saying Sam was in trouble. He had a hard time believing that. School was Sam's favorite thing, and he Dean couldn't imagine his brother doing anything to screw that up. He lied to the school-naturally- telling them their dad was out of town on business, but that he'd be there to get Sam. Upon entering the office, he sidled up to the front desk where the secretary sat. She was an older lady, but that didn't stop her from eyeing Dean up appreciatively. So he smiled at her and thought she might faint.

"Hi. I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm here for my brother Sam?"

"Oh. Umm, yes. Here are his papers, and he can return to school on the 23rd," she said, flustered. She looked up into his face and paused.

"Okay, anything else?" He prompted her, and she shook her head.

"No, no. That's all. He's right back there. Have a good day." She smiled at him, and he smiled back charmingly.

"You too. Thank you." He turned back the way he came and saw Sam across the room, shaking his head. Dean was at his side instantly and wrapped his hand around Sam's jaw turning his face to the side and taking in the bruised eye and busted lip.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam told him, jerking his face away.

"Yeah? Was he a good fighter or just lucky? What the hell happened, Sam?" Dean stood and scooped up Sam's backpack. His brother led the way out of the office.

"Nothing. Just some jerk," he said, nodding vaguely in the other direction. Dean glanced over and saw some poor kid with the nurse, blood pouring down his face.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered. "Guess you took care of that." Dean couldn't help but feel a little proud. Sammy was one hell of a fighter. Once they were home, Dean threw Sam's bag down as he hunted down the first aid supplies. "Sit," he told his brother. Sam flopped on the couch and Dean came back with more ice and a few other items. Sam sat back on the couch and Dean sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"This really isn't necessary," Sam told him. "Just a busted lip."

"Yeah, and knuckles, and a bruised up eye. I don't need that swelling shut on me. Here, put this over it. Now, spill." Sam visibly froze.

"What? There's nothing to say."

"Yes, actually there is. You don't fight for no reason, so what did he say? Or, do? Did he do something to you Sam?" Hot rage flooded Dean so quickly he felt a little light headed. Sam's well-being was the only thing that could get him worked up that fast. He was already working out how to find where the kid lived when Sam sat up.

"What? NO! It was…God. It was just something he said." Sam was close to Dean's face now, so he grabbed his jaw once more to inspect the lip. He'd been doing very well these last few years avoiding touching Sam, but now? His brother was so close and his mouth was so tempting and it was all Dean could do not to close the small space between them and finally FINALLY kiss him. Clearing his throat, he focused on Sam's words rather than his very lovely mouth.

"Yeah? What did he say?" Gently, he pressed the edge of a washcloth to Sam's lip to clean the blood away.

"Ouch! He said something…about you. And I lost it."

"Hm? What did he say?" Dean leaned back to look Sam in the eye, never taking his hand off his face.

"He said you were at a bar last night and you hit on his straight cousin. His cousin told him, and then he called you…um. He called you a fag, Dean. And that was not okay. That's not something I'm just gonna let someone say about you." Sam was flushed, angry all over again. Unsure how to respond, Dean chuckled.

"Ha. That guy was not straight. Trust me."

Sam jerked his head back out of Dean's grasp. "This is not funny, Dean! You tell me this is some big secret, then you're not careful who you sleep with so I gotta hear about it at school. Of course I'm going to defend you always, but can't you make it a little easier on us both? Please?"

"Okay, sit back. Let me see your eye. You're right. I need to be more careful, especially in a state like Alabama. And hey," he leaned back and looked Sam in the eyes, "thanks. Thanks for sticking up for me."

"Yeah. Any time." For a moment they just stared at each other. Dean looked into Sam's hazel eyes and was momentarily lost there, like he could stare forever. Distantly, he was aware that he was way too close to Sam's face and all the hard work he'd put in over the years to keep them apart seemed to be crumbling around him. He tried focusing back on Sam's injuries, but his brother was leaning forward. Dean registered what was happening seconds before Sam's lips were on his own, but he felt powerless to stop it.

Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's neck, holding him in place. Dean surged forward and tossed the wet towel aside, sliding his hands into Sam's soft, silky hair. He tried to be mindful of the cut on his brother's lip, but pretty much every thought other than _SAM _flew out of his head. His free hand curled around the younger boy's hip and they pressed as closely as possible. Sam's lips and mouth tasted amazing, and it was everything he'd always dreamed of and then some.

Edging forward even more, Sam crawled up on the coffee table, his knees on either side of Dean's hips. Dean left off kissing his mouth in favor tasting his neck, his jaw, and pretty much anywhere his lips could find. Sam was running his hands down Dean's back and making these small, delicious sounds in the back of his throat anytime Dean's tongue found a place he particularly enjoyed. Dean all but growled at the noises, loving the fact that Sam was making them for him. Gently, he scraped his teeth along the front of Sam's throat, and licked his Adam's apple. His neck vibrated against Dean's mouth as he moaned, and it was enough to make him want to lose it right there.

Opening his eyes, he looked up into Sam's face, flushed, bruised and absolutely beautiful. Both of Dean's hands were on Sam's hips, toying with the waistband of his jeans. Things seemed to slow down then, and he realized his brother was in his lap, grinding against him. His body felt amazing and just right pressed so close to him, but his brain screamed WRONG. He was supposed to protect Sam, and not only did he get him beat up but here he was practically molesting him in their living room. This can't be what Sam wants. He must have picked up on Dean's disgusting desires and is trying to make him happy. This seemed like the perfect time to freak the fuck out.

"Dean?" Sam whispered his lips against his ear. "Don't do this. I know what you're thinking. Please don't freak out. I want this. I want this so bad. Please don't run away." To emphasize this point, he licked the shell of Dean's ear and pressed his ass down harder against his crotch. A moan escaped his mouth without permission and he gently tried to remove Sam from his lap.

"No, Sammy. You don't know what you're doing. Not really. Please, we need to stop," Dean begged. He didn't think he would be able to make himself stop once he got much further. The point of no return was rapidly approaching, and he was terrified that he was about to scar his little brother for life. His little brother who was currently moaning and writhing in his lap like the hottest fucking porn star on the face of the earth. How could he say no?

"No, we shouldn't stop. This took too long as it is. Please. Let us have this one thing. We both want it. Come on, Dean." Sam pressed his forehead against Dean's, his arms wrapped around his back. Dean's heart thundered in his chest.

"Are you sure? Absolutely sure? Because this isn't something we can just take back."

"Yes, I'm sure. We'll go slow, okay? There's no need to rush it."

"Deal." Sam opened his eyes and smiled brilliantly. "Just promise me, if you ever want to stop or even hesitate for a second, you'll tell me. Promise?"

"I promise." They stared into each other's eyes for a moment and Dean dared to hope that they could actually have something good in their lives. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Sam's and something very much like happiness bloomed warm in his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few weeks, Sam was more happy than he could ever remember being. He thought back to his first kiss with Dean, completely amazed he'd done it. He hadn't even been 100% certain Dean felt the same way he did, but that close to his beautiful face, swimming in those deep green eyes, Sam almost felt like couldn't control his own body. He'd just leaned forward and went for it. Granted, it could have completely backfired once he was past the point of no return, but thank God Dean wanted him just as badly. They really needed to talk about it and Sam knew he would have to be the one to start that conversation. He knew how badly Dean hated the heart to heart talks, but he had to know where this was going.

Sighing, he came out of their bedroom and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed himself a Coke and a beer for Dean. Beer would definitely help this conversation along. Glancing into the living room, he steeled himself for "the talk". Chickening out was not an option. Once in the living room, he walked as casually as possible and flopped onto the couch. "Hey," he said handing the beer over.

"Hey. Thanks," Dean replied, his eyes never leaving the TV.

"So, um. I was wondering if we could talk."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes."

"Okay then," Dean said leaning forward to mute the TV. Sam felt like he was going to melt under all the intense attention. "So talk."

"Well," Sam said, clearing his throat. He thought he was going to have an anxiety attack or that his heart would crack his ribs with its crazy pounding. "I was wondering what this is."

"What what is?"

"Dean, come on. You know exactly what I'm talking about. This. Us. Is it, I mean…are we…like a couple?" Sam fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though he'd tried to work his speech out in his head beforehand, it had all disappeared under Dean's confused stare. "I mean…shit…not like a REAL couple. We're brothers, not…boyfriends." The last word was whispered and Sam ducked his head and hid behind his bangs. Thank God he'd grown out his hair.

"Wow. Okay. Let me ask you this…what do you want it to be? I need you to understand that you can back out at any time. I won't be mad if you decide you don't want to do this anymore Sammy. You know that, right?"

"What? Yes, of course I know that. But that's not what I'm getting at. I'm not saying I want to stop. I want…" Dean looked genuinely confused, like he couldn't fathom what else Sam could possibly want if it wasn't to stop their little…whatever it was.

"What Sam? What do you want?"

"More," Sam whispered. He bit his lip and forced himself to look his brother in the eye. Bravery was the key and he had to prove to Dean he was ready for this. Taking a deep breath, he spoke up. "I want more."

It was Dean's turn to fidget and his eyes roamed everywhere but back on Sam's face. A slow blush crept up his neck. "How exactly do you mean 'more'?

"Well, for starters, I want it to just be us. I don't want to always wonder what other guy you're sleeping with. I know that seems like a lot to ask, but I just feel like if we're gonna do this then it shouldn't include a bunch of other faceless people. Is that…okay?"

Dean finally looked him in the eye. At first Sam was terrified of what he was going to say, but those green eyes were soft and held all the love and affection in the world. "Yes, Sammy. Of course that's okay. But you're so young. If you see some girl, or guy for that matter, that you wanna be with please don't be scared to break it off with me okay? I'm not trapping you into something you don't want."

"Dean, stop saying that. I know I can walk away at any time. But are you saying it wouldn't bother you if I started seeing someone else?" The thought made Sam's heart crash through the floor. He knew if Dean started seeing someone solidly it would probably break his heart and he would do his dead level best to make sure his brother never knew it.

"Well I'm not made of stone. I can't say it wouldn't hurt to see you with another person but all I want is for you to be happy. If you're not happy with me then of course I would want you to find someone else. We can go back to being just regular brothers. Easy as pie, right?" A flash of doubt sparked in his eyes and Sam knew it wouldn't be that easy to go back to being "regular brothers", especially not when he couldn't remember a single day in his life that Dean wasn't the center of his world.

"Okay. Wow that was easier than I thought it would be." Sam chuckled nervously and scratched his neck. He watched Dean tip the bottle back and take a few swallows of beer. His throat worked and Sam couldn't stop staring at the exposed neck and thinking about how much he wanted to lick it.

"Yeah, but there's something else isn't there. You've got the "thinkin' hard" face on," Dean said after placing the bottle back on the table. His gaze was fixed on his face once again, and Sam shook his head trying to dislodge the sexual thoughts there.

"Um yeah. Actually I was wondering when…you know…_if_…we might be able to do other stuff?" Embarrassed, he jerked his head to the side, breaking their stare.

"What do you mean?" Now Sam was _sure_ Dean was screwing with him. He liked to make his little brother nervous, so he was forcing him to spell everything out just to torture him. Sam sighed heavily.

"You know! More…stuff. I love kissing you, and it might be my most favorite thing ever, but I want to know if we're ever going to do…anything else."

"Sammy, that's a really loaded question. Are you asking if we're going to have sex?" Dean just blurted it out and Sam was pretty sure he was going to spontaneously combust both from sheer mortification and from the seriously hot images those words brought up in his mind.

"God! Why do you gotta say it like that? But…yes. I guess to get right to the point. I don't mean we have to rush it, and I'm not even sure if we'll ever have like…all the way sex. But there are a lot of other things we could try. I was reading about it and…"

"Wait, wait. You were researching it weren't you? You were researching gay sex. Wow."

"Well, yeah. Things are different between two guys and I just want to make sure I do it right."

"Um, what exactly do you want to do right?" Dean squirmed in his seat, a thousand dirty wonderful ideas flooding his mind in rapid succession.

"I don't know. I'm interested in…" Dean couldn't catch the last few words as they were mumbled under Sam's breath.

"What?"

"A blow job, okay?" Sam snapped at him and his face flushed bright red. Dean chuckled, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Well yeah. Most guys are interested in blow jobs, Sammy."

Sam shook his head, his shaggy mop brushing across his eyes. "No, not getting one. Giving you one."  
>Okay, didn't see that one coming. Dean was fairly certain he'd just swallowed his tongue. He stared at Sam and gaped like a fish. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. There was no witty retort for this. Sam's eyes took on a different light, and the pupils dilated. He smiled seductively and slid off the couch onto his knees before Dean. While some part of his brain felt like he should be protesting, the rest of his brain was pretty much doing a happy dance at the sight of Sam kneeling in front of him.<p>

"So, do you think that would be okay? Could I try?" Sam slid his hands up Dean's thighs, his fingernails lightly scratching through the denim.

"Ummmm…if you want to. I don't think I'll be stopping you," Dean managed to croak out. Sam smiled wickedly and leaned up to kiss him. He had gotten mind blowingly good at kissing since they'd began the new dynamic to their relationship. Sam's tongue gently slid into his mouth and explored almost reverently, as if this was their first kiss. He was always able to make it feel like the first time, and Dean's heart made a mad dash for his throat. Placing his hand on the back of Sam's neck, he held him close and fell head first into the pleasure of kissing him.

Long, nimble fingers snapped his jeans open and Dean heard himself groan into Sam's mouth. He tried counting to make sure he wouldn't blow too soon, but his body buzzed and tingled in anticipation of Sam's mouth which began a slow torturous journey down his neck. Bites and kisses were strategically placed and Dean vaguely had to wonder if this was in the research too. Sammy always had been a good researcher.

Sam slid the zipper down right as he nipped at Dean's collar bones, sufficiently distracting him. Warm hands played with the golden hairs below his navel and he was drowning in the sensations of Sam surrounding him. He could smell him, taste him and feel him everywhere. A wet tongue darted out and licked a hot stripe on the exposed part of his belly. Dean gasped and opened his eyes to the best thing he'd ever seen. Sam glanced up at the same time, his breath ghosting over the open zipper inches from his lips. Their gazes locked and the air felt charged. Finally, _finally_ Sam started to work on pulling the jeans down.

Dean raised his hips helpfully as Sam slid the jeans down his thighs. He breathed hot air over his achingly hard cock still trapped within his boxers. Dean was dying to just get the show on the road already, but he would never rush his brother. Even if Sam decided to back out now and leave him hanging he would just have to go take care of things himself. He would never pressure him.

Sam gently pressed his lips against his cotton wrapped dick and continued to not just adjust to the taste and feel, but to tease Dean mercilessly. Just when he was about ready to beg for release, Sam slipped his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, barely brushing the sensitive head. The shorts slid down and Dean's eager cock sprang free. For a second, everything froze and Sam just stared like it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Just as it was beginning to get awkward, he tentatively stretched out his tongue and lapped up the bead of precome glistening at the tip.

That seemed to be all it took, because Sam closed his eyes and moaned wantonly. He wrapped his lips all the way around the head and sucked lightly, being careful of his teeth. After a few moments, he backed off and slid his tongue down the underside, running the tip along the vein. Dean writhed in his seat and forced his hips to still so he wouldn't buck up into the delicious heat of Sam's mouth. He wound his fingers in the long silky hair, not tugging or leading, just holding. "Oh, my God Sammy," Dean whispered under his breath.

It wasn't the neatest blow job he'd ever had, and Sam certainly wasn't his most experienced partner, but he was by far the best. He was leaps and bounds ahead of any other guy simply because he was Sam. His heart exploded with love and affection, and he ran his fingers down Sam's jaw and across his lips where they were parted over his dick and he shuddered with pleasure. Heat coiled in his spine and the familiar tingling boiled low in his belly far too soon. "Sammy," he breathed. He tried to warn him that he was getting ready to come but Sam wasn't moving. Dean tried pulling gently on his hair, but he just sucked harder. "Sam, I'm gonna…I…" Stars exploded behind his eyelids and he came hard, shooting into Sam's throat.

Pulling back, Sam opened his mouth and caught as much on his tongue as possible. He closed his eyes swallowed moaning at the taste like it was the most delicious thing ever. Sam went back to Dean's sensitive cock and licked up any drops he may have missed. Finally, he sighed and rested his cheek against Dean's thigh and they both caught their breath. "Wow," Sam breathed against his leg.

"Sammy, I am so sorry. I really tried to warn you. Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?" Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's jaw, forcing him to look him in the eyes. He scanned his face for any sign of offense, injury or anger.

"Dean, I'm fine. Seriously. That was…amazing. I can't believe I made you make those sounds. Did um…did you like it?"

"Are you serious? You're asking me that question after I just shot everywhere? Come here," he said helping him off the floor and onto the couch and tucked him closely into his side. He petted Sammy's hair and pressed his lips against his ear. He kissed the tender skin behind it before he spoke again. "I'm only gonna say this once okay? So listen up. You are amazing. Pretty much every single thing you do turns me on, and anything you're willing to do with me will always be amazing. That was the single best blow job I've ever had, and it was only your first time. I will always want you, and even if you decided to never kiss me again I would still always care about you more than anyone else on the face of the planet. Ya got that, Sasquatch?"

"Yeah, I got it. And hey," Sam said, smiling up at him. Dean arched his eyebrows questioningly. "I love you too, Dean." Pressing his forehead against Sam's he smiled back and pressed a very sweet, tender kiss to his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Need to give a shoutout of love to Soulfulsam, not only for her help with this chapter, but also for her relentless ego stroking and general all around awesomeness. Okay, on that note, ENJOY!**

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><p>John Winchester sat at the table in his kitchen. Well, it was his kitchen for now. He glanced at his watch and counted the minutes until the boys would be home. The depths of his coffee cup didn't seem to hold the answers he was seeking, but he kept staring at it anyway. All day long he rehearsed the conversation he planned to have with his oldest son, but every time he had his thoughts straight, they all came crashing down around his ears once more. The boys should be home around 3:30, and it was just going on three. He rose from the table stretching his back. His bones felt much older than they had any right to, and all his joints realigned in a symphony of cracks and pops.<p>

The TV barely distracted him for the half hour he had left to wait and he strained his ears for the sound of the Impala he'd given Dean. Sam was just getting out of school, so Dean had probably gone to pick him up. Maybe they stopped for some food, or something else fun they could do together. John wished they could do that more often, just live like a couple of normal kids with friends, dates, proms, pep rallies, and football games. Maybe that was why things were so fucked up now, because he couldn't give his sons a normal life. Because, honestly, he couldn't see Dean being…well, you know…without there being some kind of reason for it. His son was a really great kid, who had grown from a good boy to a man now who made his heart swell with pride. He could handle beatings, spirits and monsters almost as well as he could, and took care of Sammy, keeping him in line better than John ever could. If only Dean had been given a normal life with time to settle down and meet a nice girl, maybe he wouldn't feel like he needed…well… what it was John had found at the bottom of his duffle. He looked across the room at the glossy magazine cover sitting on the bed, which featured a buff muscular man eye-fucking the camera and holding his hand over the top of his groin, where the bottom edge of the cover cut off the rest.

John hadn't gone into his kids' bags with the intention of snooping; in fact, he never looked through their stuff. He really did just want to get all the laundry done, and he knew his boys shoved clothes haphazardly anywhere they would fit. Dean was 20 years old, so he couldn't begrudge him having a skin mag and when he'd found it he probably wouldn't have even thought twice about it if the cover hadn't told him right away that this was not the garden variety porno. The entire thing was dedicated to gay sex, and while John was no innocent, he hated to admit that he blushed at what he saw.

At first, he was confused. Why would Dean have something like this? He'd watched his son flirt with and hit on girls for years. But then, the more he thought it over, the more he realized he'd never actually seen him with a girl. He thought over the years where he may have missed more subtle hints that his son might be gay. They practically lived in each other's pockets for God's sake. How could he not have noticed? Then he was angry. He was angry at Dean for lying to him, angry at Sammy for not telling him, because damn right Sammy knew. He had to – those kids were so close, he could bet they told each other everything. And then he was angry at himself most of all, for never noticing something so important. What else was he missing? And Sammy. His little Sammy was not so little anymore. Girls noticed him now, and he'd filled out from thin and gangly to muscular and lean. Now that he was becoming a man too, did he need to worry about Sam?

John had never really sat down and thought about how he even felt about gay people before this. It was never discussed in his home growing up and the while there were one or two soldiers in the Marines who he thought might have been gay, it was obviously never talked about because if it had been confirmed their military careers would have abruptly ended. Those men had fought alongside him just as well as any of the other soldiers and never hit on him or any of his buddies though, so he'd ignored his suspicions and treated them with the respect a fellow soldier deserved. But this was different; this was his own son. His boy had always been a lady killer and he'd never imagined that he'd ever have to deal with him wanting to do the kinds of things he'd seen in that magazine. When Dean had first started going out all night and coming back in the morning with bruises on his neck and his hair disheveled, John hadn't relished the thoughts that had come into his mind about his son's activities even then, but now thinking about it made him shiver. He imagined Dean being bent over by some guy, or spreading out like some woman, like a couple of the photos he'd seen in Dean's damnable magazine. Even if Dean preferred it… the _other_ way around, it was still pretty gross.

The unmistakable rumble of the Impala finally pulled into the drive. John rushed to the bed, shoved the magazine underneath it, and then struggled to maintain his composure. Not much scared him, but he'd rather face a hoard of Wendigos than have this talk with Dean. He glanced out the window and watched his two handsome sons make their way to the door. They laughed and shoved each other playfully. Dean's face never lit up like that unless he was with Sammy, and the same thing went for the youngest Winchester boy. That was one thing John was grateful for, at least; no matter what he'd denied his sons, they at least always had each other.

John saw the boys pause in the driveway, eyeing his truck. They both sobered instantly, easily slipping into the roles they were raised in. Sammy's eyes hardened and John felt his heart sink at the look he put on his son's face. Dean stopped, grabbed Sam's arm, and then leaned in and muttered something to him, to which Sam sighed and then solemnly nodded and then they began heading once again to the door. Dean walked in first, and John pretended not to notice them at all. It seemed…easier.

"Hey, Dad!" Dean sounded happy to see him at least. He craned his neck over his shoulder as they walked in.

"Oh, hey boys. How was school, Sammy?"

"Fine," he clipped out. John caught the _It's Sam_, whispered under his breath.

"Great. Hey, Sam," John began, carefully remembering to drop his childhood name. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind running into town for your old man. Maybe you could pick up dinner for us? And before you say no…you can drive the Impala." Dean's eyes went wide and John was pretty sure he heard him choke.

"Dad. Are you…sure? I mean, Sammy's barely 16. Do you think he can handle that?" Sam practically tripped over his big feet making his way to the couch where John sat, and he tried to hide the smile on his face.

"Yes! Absolutely!" Sam held his hand out to his dad for money first, then, smirking joyfully at his brother, for the keys to the car. Dean took his sweet time fishing his keys out of his pocket and then made Sam wrestle them from him. "What should I get for dinner?"

"Doesn't matter. Anything you feel like. And here's the list of supplies I need from town. Thanks, Son." Sam took the paper and then glanced between John and Dean, as if sensing something coming. He'd always been a perceptive kid. He opened his mouth, but before he got a word out John spoke again. "No, Dean can't go with you. I need him here. We trust you with that car, Sam. Be good to her." Dean paled again, whether for the car or for his own safety was unclear.

Once Sam was out the door, Dean began to shift his weight from foot to foot. "So? What did you need from me, Dad?"

"Sit down, Son. I wanna talk." Dean gingerly drifted toward the chair across from the couch, his back ramrod straight as he prepared for what was coming. John exhaled a huge breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Dean, is there something you wanna tell me?" Even more color drained from his oldest son's face and John worried he was going to puke for a second before he re-gained his composure.

"I umm…" Dean cleared his throat and began again. "I'm not sure what you mean, Sir."

"Well, I just got back this afternoon and went to wash some laundry and found a pretty, uh…" he reached under the bed, pulled out the magazine, and held it out to Dean, "interesting magazine in your bag. What can you tell me about this?"

Dean's jaw dropped, eyes wide, and his cheeks flushed with a hint of color. Shaky hands took the magazine from him and then quickly rolled it tight. "I – uh – I – sir?"

"Dean? Are you gonna answer me boy?" John's voice was sharper than he intended, but he was still reeling from the revelation that his son was gay.

"Dad? I..umm…" Dean stammered when he was nervous, which was practically never. John hadn't heard him sound like that since he was about six years old. "I-I-I umm…what I mean is, I think…uh…D-Dad?" John just raised an eyebrow, allowing him to continue. A blush colored his cheeks, and his freckles stood out in sharp relief. God, he looked so much like Mary sometimes. "I think I'm gay." Dean dropped his head then, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"You _think_? Or you _know_? 'Cause there is a world of difference between the two, Dean."

"I know," he whispered. "Dad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I…I can't help it."

"How long have you known about this?"

Dean was staring dejectedly at the floor, his hands resting between his knees and tightly clutching the rolled up magazine. "Long time."

John sighed. A lot of the anger he felt towards his son was ebbing away at seeing his son looking so miserable, but he couldn't just let this go because Dean was upset. Still, he tried to take the bite out of his voice to make the conversation easier. "How long we talking here? Years?" Dean gave him a slight nod of the head for confirmation. "And you've been sneaking around and lying to me about it this whole time."

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't want to be gay. I didn't mean to disappoint you."

"Well you did disappoint me, Dean."

"I know." Dean bravely looked up then, eyes shining. All John's anger whooshed out of him at the sight of Dean's unshed tears.

"Listen," he paused, trying to pick his words carefully. He'd never been very good at talking about feelings. If their lives were different, it would have been Mary talking to Dean about this. But she was gone and he, once again, was left feeling overwhelmed as he tried to do it all himself. "It's because you lied to me. If something like this is happening, you need to come to me and tell me about it."

"I didn't think you'd want to hear it."

Oh. "Well…" What was he even going to say to that? No, he wasn't thrilled to find out that his oldest son was gay and he wasn't a hundred percent sure about how to handle it, but he was pretty sure that neither he nor Dean had the power to change his sexuality. "I'm not saying I want to hear all the details, but anything would have been better than you pretending to date girls and sneak around behind my back for years. Years, I mean, fuck, Dean, years. We can't keep secrets like that in this family." He almost sarcastically asked if Dean thought he was going to beat him if he'd told, but then it occurred to him that he probably did.

Dean gave a single nod. "I wanted to be able to say something but, you know how it is. We're hunters. If other guys found out…they'd think I was weak. I figured you'd think I was weak. A sissy boy. I didn't want you to ever look at me like that."

John shook his head. "Dean, I know you're not a sissy boy. And I'm sorry, too. I feel like you, well, being…" He couldn't say it, so he settled for waving his hand at Dean abstractly, "is partly my fault. I shouldn't have made you and Sammy move around so much, I know you should have had something more stable growing up…"

"No," Dean said firmly, cutting him off. "It's not your fault, it doesn't work like that."

"Is Sam – well, he's not…"

Dean's gaze hardened as if John had said something unfairly accusing but he shifted his weight uncomfortably on the chair at the same time and John wasn't sure what to make of the gesture. "Sam likes girls, if that's what you're asking."

"Does he know about this? I mean, about…what you've been doing?"

"Yeah, Dad, he knows."

"Okay, when did you tell him?"

"Um, actually, I didn't tell him. He just sort of…found out." Dean's green gaze skittered away again.

"Dean, no more lies. How exactly did he find out?"

"A few years back, he…caught me. With somebody." Anger flashed hot down John's spine at this confession.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He leaped up from the couch, needing to pace. Dean flinched back from his tone. "How old was he? And what in God's name were you thinking doing that where he could see you? The hell is the matter with you, Dean?"

"I thought he was asleep! I checked on him, locked him in, salted everything! Dad, he woke up and I wasn't there. It scared him, so he came looking for me." John knew Sammy had grown out of that in the last few years, and his back stiffened.

"Answer my question. How. Old. Was. He?"

"He…he was 11."

"Jesus Christ. And he saw…everything?"

"Yes, sir. I am so sorry. We talked, and he knew what it meant. And he knew it was important to me that no one found out. I'm sorry that I lied and that I had Sammy lie too. But I'm not sorry that I'm gay."

Dean put emphasis on the last word, the one word that John hadn't been able to bring himself to say. He was standing up for himself and not backing down and in that moment, John was very proud of his oldest son. John could have hated this confession, and in a way he did. But more than anything, he saw his son taking responsibility and acting like a man.

"No bringing any casual fucks into the house, you got me? I don't care how old Sam is, I don't want him walking in on something like that again."

Despite the uncomfortable air in the room, the corner of Dean's mouth involuntarily twitched up into a smile as if he was sharing in some kind of private joke. "Yes, sir. That won't be a problem."

"Okay. Is there anything else I need to know about? Any more secrets I need to be made aware of?"

"No, sir." Dean was just a bit too still, his gaze too steady and John knew how to detect a lie. He scrutinized his boy a bit longer, wondering if he would crack. He knew there had to be more, another secret hidden in the eyes he got from his mother.

"Okay then," he said slowly, not buying it for a minute. But something he'd learned over the years? The truth never stays buried for long. "I'm taking the truck out for a drive, be back in an hour."

He didn't wait for a response from Dean, but knew he wouldn't get one, either. As he pulled out onto the road, he replayed the conversation in his head. So, Dean was gay and Sam wasn't. Honestly, out of the two of his sons, he'd been worried about Sam the most and Dean not at all. Sammy was always going through phases – first magic, then soccer, and after that drama, and finally going to poetry readings. He'd half expected that by now he would have walked in on Sam in the middle of some kind gay experimentation as one of his many passing interests and whims. Dean was the steadfast one whose interests never changed. He stuck to hunting, weapons, cars and-he'd thought- girls. He didn't have passing fancies like his younger brother, so if Dean was telling him that he was gay, John was fairly certain that it wasn't about to change. He was actually pretty glad that Sam already knew about this; he was sure Sam was better equipped to handle this stuff with Dean than he was. Out of all the mistakes John had made with his sons, he was at least glad that he'd raised them to be close. No matter what, Sam and Dean would have each other, even if he couldn't be there for them.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey yall! Sorry for the long wait on this! I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the handsome Alyxxwincest on his birthday! Feliz cumpleanos, mi amor. WARNING: graphic sex ahead. Hope yall enjoy!**

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><p>Dean had taken Sammy and the Impala and gotten the hell out of dodge the second he was clear. He could barely look his father in the eye during dinner after their little "talk". Part of him was glad it was over; glad his dad finally knew. The other part, however, was convinced that he could have easily gone to his grave without his dad ever knowing he liked guys. And-he reminded himself- he <em>would <em>go to his grave with one secret intact. Their dad could never ever know what was going on between him and Sam. Ever. Sure, he'd been oddly cool with the whole gay thing, but this? These feelings they had for each other were not the same as being gay, and he was pretty sure his dad would kill him if he ever found out. And then promptly die of a heart attack himself. Dean was convinced of this truth because the main thing Dad had been angry about in the first place was the lie itself, and secondly that Sammy had been corrupted, seen something he shouldn't have. Wouldn't it just be a kick in the teeth to find out Dean also corrupted him another way? No. He would die protecting Sam and their secret.

He drove them to field they'd discovered a few weeks ago set back from the road. They both climbed out of the car and walked into the seclusion of the field together, Sam trailing along behind him with a blanket. Seriously. And Dean was the gay one? Darkness had fallen, but the hot, August day had baked the earth and it was still toasty warm as they settled on the grass together. Dean propped his back up slightly against a tree and opened his arms for Sam to crawl into. Which he did instantly. He had to bite back a smile at that because no matter how big Sam got, he still managed to look small wrapped in Dean's arms. Dean's hand immediately went to stroking Sam's hair, which he secretly had a serious thing for.

"So Dad sent me to the store so he could confront you about being gay? Really? God, I'm 16. I could have been there for that!" Sam was pouting, and Dean would never admit that it was kind of cute.

"Well, maybe he thought you'd pick a fight with him. It went okay, really. Mostly he was mad because I've lied to him all these years. Oh yeah, and that you caught me with that guy that time." Sam stiffened noticeably against his body, and he knew he'd said the wrong the thing.

"You mean Ryan." It wasn't a question. Sam wouldn't lift his head from its' resting place on Dean's chest to look him in the eye, so he went with sighing heavily.

"Yeah. Ryan." The guy was a nice kid, but come on! He'd barely remembered him. It was really nothing for Sammy to get all jealous and huffy over. Sam didn't respond, but he refused to relax and drew in a long suffering sigh. "What is it? You know that was like, five years ago."

"I know. But you must have liked him. You went out with him twice." Dean stared at the top of Sam's shaggy head.

"What? How do you remember shit like that? Yes, I went out with him twice. I wanted to…spend some time with someone before we left town. I already knew he liked me. It was easier than trying to find another gay guy on such short notice. I mean, what's the point here? What are you getting at?"

"Nothing." Dean sat up, jarring Sam's position on his chest until he sat back as well. They looked into each other's eyes and Dean could see the insecurities there. His brother never was good at hiding things from him.

"Come on, Sammy. Tell me the truth." Sam fidgeted and stared at the grass, looked anywhere but at Dean.

"Okay. Yeah, I guess I am. A little jealous, I mean." His words were soft, and if Dean hadn't been listening so closely, he wouldn't have heard.

"Jealous of what? Sammy, that was years ago. I haven't seen or spoken to that guy since then. You have nothing to be jealous of." Dean reached out and swiped his thumb across Sam's cheekbone. Sometimes, he just had to touch him.

"I'm jealous because…" More fidgeting gave away just how nervous he was to say it. Dean couldn't imagine what could make his brother squirm so much. "Because he got something from you that I don't think I'll ever get to have. He saw a side of you that I want, but I'm pretty sure you're never gonna give it to me." Okay, now was the time to play dumb.

"Sammy, I don't know what you're talking about. You have more of me than anyone ever has before."

"Well, I haven't gotten to have sex with you, have I?" A bold, defiant look came into Sam's eyes, and he was clearly done playing games.

"I-uhh…what? We…do stuff." It was Dean's turn to fidget. "I don't know if it's a good idea, Sammy. I mean…we're…you know."

"Brothers? Yes, we are. Brothers don't do ANY of the things we do together, Dean. I thought we were over this already."

"Yeah, but what you're talking about is different. You're talking about…sex!" Sam burst out laughing at Dean's expression, the seriousness of the moment completely lost. He clutched his sides and rolled along the blanket, laughing hysterically. "What the hell is so funny?"

"You should have seen your face! You looked so scandalized!" Sam burst into another fit of giggles. Dean refused to acknowledge the blush that crept up his neck.

"Whatever, bitch," he said, shoving his laughing brother. Sam stopped laughing suddenly, and crawled right into his lap, arms encircling Dean's neck.

"Jerk," he replied and leaned forward to press his lips against Dean's. Okay, so maybe that was an effective way to avoid a conversation. Sam always did know how to get exactly wanted. Tilting his head, he slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth, exploring every inch as though they hadn't just made out yesterday. Dean tangled his hands in Sam's hair briefly and lifted his hips slightly, grinding against the body in his lap.

Sam's lips trailed across his chin, then his jaw, and he began to rain kisses down all over his face. Dean held still, hands on Sam's hips, while his face was kissed over and over. He couldn't help but smile and enjoy the feeling of absolute love in those kisses. "You are so beautiful," Sam sighed between kisses and Dean's heart flipflopped in his chest. He slid his hands around his brother's ribcage and pushed him back gently. "I um…I don't think this is a good idea." Sam leaned back and stared him defiantly in the face.

"Why not?"

"I just don't think you're ready. This is a huge decision, and I want to take it seriously," Dean told him while fighting for control over his arousal. "I think we should talk about it before we…"

"_You_ want to take sex seriously. Only when it's with me though, right?"

"Sam…"

"No, you're right. Look, I've thought about this. And I'm ready," Sam said, pulling out his wallet. He still sat on Dean's lap, and the movements were making the older boy's head swim as he tried to focus on what Sam was saying. He pulled out a few small packets of lube and two condoms and tossed the items on Dean's chest and he fought the urge to squirm.

"Wow. Um okay. You really have prepared. Were you planning this when we came here?"

"No! Okay, yes. A little. I've been carrying this stuff around for weeks now, trying to get the courage to ask you. I wanted it to be the right time and place, and this seems as great a time as any. And we both love this place, so why not?" He slid his hands up Dean's chest and leaned in closely. "Please, Dean. I really am ready for this. I even bought condoms because I knew you'd want to use them. That was embarrassing."

Dean smiled against Sam's neck, imagining him buying condoms. "You don't want to use them?"

"No. I want it to be just me and you. Nothing between us. But…I know you worry and want to keep me safe. Plus, I read somewhere that the extra lube on the condom is supposed to help make it easier the first time." Dean chuckled at the blush crawling up Sam's neck and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Sammy. Are you absolutely sure?" Rather than respond, Sam kissed Dean again harder, deeper. He caressed the side of his brother's face and stroked his cheekbone. His fingers were strong and sure as they pushed Dean's over-shirt off his shoulders and pulled both their shirts over their heads. Both boys groaned when the hot skin of their chests finally touched, and Sam pushed down harder against Dean's lap.

Dean was beginning to lose track of all the reasons why this was a bad idea as Sam writhed in his lap. Hands unbuckled his belt and popped the button while warm lips trailed down his throat. When the warm breeze hit the open place in his jeans, Dean snapped to awareness and pushed Sam off of him and down onto the blanket. He pinned him down while he covered Sam's chest in kisses. His tongue flicked over one of Sam's nipples at the same moment he got the button of his jeans undone and Sam groaned loudly, arching his body up into Dean's.

Mouth working along the lean body, Dean got Sam's jeans wrestled down around his thighs and slid his palms across the soft skin of his brother's hips. A trail of dark marks blossomed under the tan skin of Sam's torso and a tingle of possessiveness swam through the older boy's veins. A low growl slid past Dean's lips and he babbled softly against the warm flesh, nosing around the faint hairs just south of Sam's navel. The body beneath his own jerked in surprise when Dean's tongue slid teasingly along the hard length and he savored the taste. The sound of Sam's moan slithered along his spine like molten lava.

The fingers of his free hand closed around the small travel pack of lube and something akin to panic flared up in Dean's chest. Was this really happening? The heat of Sam's body pulled his mind back from those thoughts quickly. He drizzled the lube on his fingers and moved to kiss the tender inner thigh. "Relax, Sammy," he whispered along the sweet skin. "I'm gonna take care of you." He slid his slick fingers along Sam's opening, petting gently. The muscles tensed reflexively, and Dean soothed him with soft kisses and licks along his hip bone until he felt Sam relax. "That's it," he sighed. He moved to slide his lips around the head and sucked just the tip into his mouth. His sweet taste exploded along his tongue and he moaned around the younger boy's flesh. At Sam's surprised gasp, Dean pressed his finger forward and circled it just inside the hot muscle.

After a few moments, Dean slid his finger all the way inside Sam's body and just rested it there and allowed him to adjust, focusing instead on using his mouth as a distraction. Slowly, he pulled his finger out and pressed it back in a few times, monitoring his lover's body for signs of pain. He gently began moving a second finger inside, thrusting and scissoring as he licked and sucked enough to keep Sam's focus on his mouth rather than his hands. Dean was on the verge of losing his patience, pressing his hips against the ground to for some kind of relief from the intense pressure building inside of him. But, as always, Sam's comfort and well-being always came first, and Dean continued to take it slow, slipping a third finger in and working it around.

"Oh, God," Sam moaned as Dean stroked the tender bundle of nerves deep inside. Dean wanted to hear Sam cry out his pleasure; wanted to hear that wrecked voice scream his name.

"Louder, Sammy. Tell me what you want," Dean said, pressing deep inside once more.

"I…oh. I want…fuck me Dean!" Sam yelled, sounded just as beautiful as Dean imagined he would. "Please, I need you inside of me." He hadn't expected the begging, but his heart stuttered and if he hadn't wanted to be with Sam right then, he would have tried to drag it out and listen to the delicious words all night.

"Jesus Christ. Okay, Sammy. I got you." Dean leaned back and pulled his fingers free. Almost frantically, he yanked his pants off the rest of the way and slipped a condom on as quickly as he could in his flustered state. Once it was on, he spread more lube over himself and lined up on his knees. He froze a moment, considering everything this meant. He was about to have sex with Sam. That panicky feeling stole its way back into his heart until Sam closed his hand around Dean's.

"Don't run. Stay with me." Glassy, lust-blown hazel eyes stared into his own green ones and a love washed over him so intensely that it made his knees weak. He leaned forward and claimed Sam's lips, sliding his tongue along the bottom lip and inside. As his tongue breached the seal of lips, he pressed forward slowly and slid inside of Sam. He paused after every inch until Sam encouraged him to move. When he was finally all the way inside, he let out a shaky breath and forced himself to still. Sam was so hot, and his body so tight. Dean wanted to thrust against him hard and feel Sam's body pull him back inside but he waited. "God, Dean. Move, please, fucking move." A light sheen of sweat had broken out over both boys and Dean leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his chest as he slowly pulled back a fraction and pressed back inside.

They both groaned and Sam pulled his legs up to wrap around Dean's hips, pressing his heel into the soft skin of his lower back. That simple movement shifted the angle and he was able to drive even deeper and the thrusts became harder as they found a rhythm. Sam's arms snaked around Dean's neck and he felt completely blanketed as they moved against each other, soft moans and grunts floating into the warm night air. Dean felt hickies being sucked into his neck where Sam worked his teeth and lips and his hips bucked harder at the thought of the marks he would wear tomorrow. Somehow, he felt claimed, and nothing and no one would ever feel as good or right as Sam did in this moment. He savored the sounds and tasted his brother's skin over and over.

His orgasm began nudging the base of his spine entirely too soon. Dean wished he could make this moment stretch on and on. Since he knew he couldn't, the thing he wanted most was to watch Sam lose it while Dean was buried inside of him. Balancing his weight on one arm, he reached for Sam's cock and began stroking him roughly to the rhythm of his thrusts. "Come on Sammy," he sighed against his ear. "Come for me. Wanna see you lose it with my cock so deep inside of you. Come on," he said and ran his tongue around the shell of his ear. Sam shivered once and his body went bowstring taut. A moment later he cried out loudly-much to Dean's satisfaction-as his release flowed all over Dean's hand and both their chests.

"Oh, Dean! Fuck!" Sam's language and the way his body clenched so tightly sent Dean over the edge only moments later, pumping deep inside of him. Boneless, he flopped down on his lover's body, smearing the mess all around them. And he did not care. He pressed his ear against Sam's rapidly beating heart and slid out gently, catching his breath.

"Oh, fuck," Dean sighed as Sam ran his nose through his hair. Dean told himself this did NOT count as cuddling until Sam's long arms came around him and he leaned into it anyway. Okay, so it was totally cuddling. He was man enough to admit it.

"Dean?" He froze, anticipating Sam's 'we need to talk' tone. "That was…amazing." Dean smiled, pressing his lips to Sam's chest one final time before wiping them up with one of their discarded shirts. "Hey! That was mine!" Sam's nose wrinkled as Dean wiped him down.

"It'll wash," he tried to say sternly, but he couldn't resist pressing his lips against Sam's again. He looked cute when he frowned. Dean hitched his jeans up and slid the condom off, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. After he zipped and buttoned up, he glanced back at Sam still lying on the blanket and still very naked.

"You killed me. Can't move," he said smiling.

"Okay. Guess you're sleeping in the field," Dean replied, moving as if to leave.

"Psh. Yeah, 'cause you'd leave me." Sam snorted and rolled his eyes as he pulled his own jeans up. Dean refused to acknowledge the heat pooling in his belly at the sight of Sam shirtless, strong muscles shifting under the smooth skin of his back. He'd need to pace himself. At this rate, he would want Sam naked every minute of the day. And that was just not realistic. Sam sighed wistfully as he helped fold up the blanket. "What?" Sam saw the dreamy look in Dean's eyes as he imagined Sam naked and ready at a moment's notice for him every single day.

"Nothing," Dean replied. "Just…that was great." Sam blushed and kissed the hinge of Dean's jaw.

"Yeah. Let's go home. It's umm…close to bed time." He quirked an eyebrow suggestively. As Sam strutted back to the car, no longer a virgin, Dean realized there would be no pacing himself after all. With Sam, it was pretty much all or nothing. And damn it, he wanted it all.


	10. Chapter 10

WOW! Hey guys! I know I've failed you horribly, but I could not for the LIFE of me figure out what to do here. I flip flopped for months, but here it is. I decided to stick with my original plan and keep it at 10 chapters, so this is it! _Es todo!_ For now, anyway. I have several other things I'm working on, but i wanna get em good and laid out before i give em to ya. Thanks to everyone who read and stuck through my first ever multichapter fanfic! Special shout out to Alexx_Wincest, SoulfulSam, and TwinchesterAngel. Hope yall enjoy!

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><p>Sam was 17. It was August of his senior year of high school and he had decisions to make. Over the summer he'd thought long and hard about what he was going to do after graduation. Should he just get his diploma and continue hunting? Or should he look for more? His chest ached with indecision every day that he looked Dean in the face or held him closely in the dark. Times like that, Sam couldn't fathom leaving his brother and he would forget all about his stupid college plans. Then, something would happen and John would piss him off and all he could think about was packing his bags.<p>

He wondered if there would be any way he could convince Dean to come with him. Maybe he could get a job in an auto shop somewhere and the two of them could get an apartment together while Sam worked through his degree. He thought he might want to be a lawyer, but he really wasn't sure if he could do it without seeing his brother's face every day. Sometimes, he spent afternoons just daydreaming about a life away from hunting, where he and Dean were together in every sense of the word and he knew his brother would come home from work safely every night, and not end up ripped limb from limb by some nasty creature.

Several meetings with the school guidance counselor later, Sam settled on Stanford. Of all the places he'd been with his dad and Dean, California was always his favorite. He told Dean he was at the library studying when really he was working on his college and scholarship applications. He wrote essays he was sure would bring the admissions board to tears and all the while told himself it was just a back-up plan. After all, he wasn't REALLY going to go away to college for four years alone was he? No, Sam just enjoyed knowing that he had choices.

Somehow, Dean had helped him convince their dad to let them stay in one place for Sam's senior year, which just so happened to be in Montana. Montana had to be one of the WORST places they'd been, but he wouldn't complain so long as he managed to stay in one school for the last year. Dean left occasionally to help their dad on the trickier hunts, but otherwise stayed in town with Sam working odd jobs. Sometimes, they would go weeks without seeing John, and Sam could pretend his life really did revolve around school during the days and sharing his bed with Dean every night. He imagined his life at Stanford would be similar to this, just him and Dean sharing their lives together. Not that he would ever voice such an emotional sentiment out loud.

Sam arranged for the mail from Stanford and a few of his back-up schools to be sent to his high school so his mail would never be intercepted by Dean or his dad. He waited for months to hear back, anxious and worried that he wouldn't be accepted, but also twice as worried that he would. Dean knew something was up. Sam tried to keep as calm and casual as possible but he felt his brother's eyes on his back. Many of his classmates were getting their acceptance letters and Sam's heart sank further with each passing week.

"Dude. What's up with you?" Dean set his fork down and eyed Sam over the lip of his beer bottle.

"Huh? Nothing," Sam replied, pushing his food around.

"You've been acting weird for weeks. Extra broody and quiet. You barely pay attention during training anymore. Come on. Just tell me." Sam weighed his options, knowing on one hand that he couldn't successfully keep lying to Dean, and on the other that he would never understand.

"Nothing. Guess it's just senioritis or something. It's weird thinking school will be over soon."

"Oh. Well, no worries. Bobby has plenty of ancient books and Latin lessons to keep your nerd brain busy." Dean flashed him a smile and Sam's insides melted a little.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess that's true."

"Come on. Let's find a movie on TV," Dean said standing up from the table and stretching. He let his fingers trail down Sam's shoulder as he passed and Sam suppressed a shudder. He cleared up the plates from dinner and grabbed them both fresh beers before following Dean into the living room. He flopped on the couch, sprawling his long limbs everywhere. "Oh dude! Really?" Sam laughed and handed over the beer. They settled in, comfortable with each other and stared at the screen. "You sure you're okay? You can talk to me, you know."

"Yeah. I know. And I'm fine. Stop worrying," Sam said. He leaned in quickly and planted a kiss on Dean's plush lips before he could react. Dean just smiled, the tips of his ears pinking up from a slight blush. Sam sipped from his beer smugly.

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><p>Dean stared at the TV, not even sure what they were watching. He had his arm draped across the couch behind Sam's head and ran his fingers through his hair. He had a weakness for that hair, no matter how much he teased him for it. Dean watched his brother out the corner of his eye. He knew something was going on with Sam. He waited and watched for weeks, hoping he would just come out with it already. Snooping was really not his thing, but he was starting to worry and Sam was lying more frequently. Sam had school tomorrow, so Dean may just have to do a little investigating.<p>

"Dean?

"Hmm?" Sam's voice startled him after sitting so long in the relative quiet.

"Where do you think we'll be next year?" Sam's eyes were shut and he was practically purring and nudging his head further into the palm of Dean's hand.

"What do you mean? Like, what city? What state? I have no fucking clue, man. How could I know that?" Dean was curious about this line of questioning. Even when half asleep, Sam's questions always had a purpose behind them.

"No. I just mean…what do you think will be different? I mean, I'm gonna be 18 soon. That's gotta spark some kind of change right?"

"Sammy, you being 18 is gonna be awesome. But I'm not sure what kind of change you're expecting to come from it. There's some monster out there somewhere that will need killing and we'll take care of it. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before," Dean replied, shrugging.

"Yeah. I guess so." Sam's breathing evened out and he leaned his head against Dean's shoulder, puffing small breaths against his neck. Dean always felt guilty at times like this. He looked around, ensuring they were alone with windows covered and doors locked. All he needed was for a neighbor to see those weird Winchester boys snuggling in for a nap. His eyes felt heavy, and he let them slide closed, so comfortable with the warm solid weight of Sam against him.

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><p>"Dean." He jumped awake his hand wrapped around his knife and his arm tightening around…a pillow? He stared into his dad's eyes as his heart rate slowed down.<p>

"Jesus Christ. You scared the shit outta me! Can't you make some noise when you walk?"

"That would kinda defeat the purpose," John said smirking. "Just wanted to let you know I was back. Where's your brother?"

"I don't know. He was right here…" Dean looked around. No Sam. His dad's eyes hardened instantly.

"Dean…"

"Dad?" Sam called from the stairs.

"Oh, hey kid. How's it going?"

"Fine," Sam said, shrugging.

"Right. Well, guess I'm gonna shower. Think I pulled every muscle in my body. Damn poltergeist…" John mumbled as he shuffled into his room.

"You okay?" Dean looked up at his brother who already looked hunched in on himself from just thirty seconds in Dad's presence.

"Dean. Seriously? How many times are you gonna ask me that? I'm FINE. I've got homework." Their bedroom door shut behind him and Dean was left alone in the living room. What was a nice, relaxed Sunday afternoon instantly filled with tension. Jesus. What would he do with those two?

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><p>Sam flopped on the bed, his happy bubble sufficiently popped. Thank God he'd had to pee or else their dad would have caught them in a very compromising position. As long as he was around, there would be no unnecessary touching, no bed sharing and definitely no sex. Sam became damn near invisible to Dean when Dad was home. Of course he understood why, but that didn't mean he had to like it. One of the benefits of being a teenager was the fact that everyone expected him to be pissy, so he took full advantage of it. After a decent amount of time spent moping, Sam cracked open his Spanish book. <em>Ven conmigo a California. <em>How many different ways could he think of to ask Dean to come with him to California? Sam sighed, knowing Dean would never say yes. He would never leave Dad. If Sam decided that Stanford was what he really wanted, then he needed to be prepared to be alone. His eyes welled up and the words of his book blurred.

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><p>Several hours later, Dean came into the room. "Hey. Am I safe from a bitch fit?" Sam just glared. "I'll take that as a maybe. Come on. Put the books away. It's bed time." Dean sat down and started removing his boots.<p>

"Ugh. I am 17 years old. I don't think I need a bedtime," Sam said, instantly defensive.

"Sam. Bedtime," Dean said firmly while removing his shirt. Once he was free of the clothing, he fixed a heated look in Sam's direction. "You get me?"

Sam gulped. "Oh. Uhh. Yeah, you're probably right. School tomorrow and all…" Sam hurriedly shoved his school stuff back in his bag and jumped off the bed. In his haste to pull his jeans off, he tangled himself up and stumbled across the room. Dean barely suppressed a laugh as he turned the lights out. "Ouch. Not funny, Dean."

"So funny," Dean whispered suddenly right in front of him. "You gotta be real, real quiet. Okay, Sammy?" They were so close, his lips caught on Sam's with each word. Sam just nodded, keeping perfectly still. Sam loved messing around with Dean in the dark. Light was good too, but Dean made a point of surprising him in the dark. He tried to kiss or lick or bite him where he least expected it, keeping his nerves on edge. His tongue lapped warm and wet right on the pulse point of his neck and Sam barely suppressed a groan. "Shh. I'd hate to have to stop," Dean said before scraping his teeth along Sam's Adam's apple.

Dean's hands found his hips and he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Sam's boxers. In one quick movement, they were on the floor. Those strong hands slid up and around his torso, leaving fire hot trails in their wake. Lips, teeth and tongue began appearing everywhere; his collar bones, the center of his chest, his nipples, and a gentle kiss right above his heart that had his knees weakening.

He heard Dean shift as he lowered himself to the floor and Sam's heart beat double time. Dean licked a long stripe from his hip bone to his belly button and Sam bit his lip hard. He teased him with little licks and kisses everywhere but where he really needed it. "Dean," he rasped softly, "please."

"You know I'll take care of you," came the quiet reply. And he did know. If there was one thing Sam new for absolute certain, it was that Dean would always take care of him. He slammed his eyes shut, forcing himself to enjoy the moment and not think of tomorrow. He slid his fingers through Dean's short hair and along his jaw. He felt it flex open as Dean flicked his tongue out, licking softly along the head of his cock. Sam drew in a sharp breath and held it, trying not to make a sound. He ran the pads of his fingers across Dean's bottom lip and to corner of his mouth, feeling himself there.

His spine tingled in absolute pleasure as he envisioned Dean's full lips stretched around him. He glanced down but only saw the shadows of Dean's body, his head bobbing gently as he swallowed down more of Sam's length. Sam hitched his hips forward a fraction of an inch, unable to stop. "Sorry," he whispered.

"No. I want you to." Sam looked down into Dean's eyes as he opened his mouth widely and sucked him in. And then he just sat there. Waiting. Sam froze, torn between an intense desire for Dean's mouth and not wanting to hurt him. "You'll tell me if I need to stop right? If I hurt you?" Sam brushed his fingers across Dean's cheek once more as he nodded. Sam didn't buy it though. He knew Dean, and he knew he'd let Sam take whatever he wanted without caring for himself. Sam promised himself he'd be gentle. He was only 17, but he wasn't exactly a small guy.

Rocking his hips forward slowly, Dean sucked and twirled his tongue at the same time. "Jesus," he whispered, pushing his hips in deeper. He felt Dean's throat open up and flutter around him and he rocked once more, a little harder this time. He tried to pull back, too afraid of hurting Dean to let go until he felt his hands wrap around his hips, pulling him in closer. Dean used his grip to push Sam back and forth in a jerky rhythm until he got the hint. Sam slid in and out of that tight heat harder and faster, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder for balance.

"God, Dean. I can't…" Sam gasped and thrust harder, listening for sounds of discomfort but hearing none. He glanced down once more and saw Dean looking up into his eyes, his cock fucking into that perfect mouth and without warning he came hard and fast down his throat. He pulled back quickly but Dean's hands continued to hold him there, drinking everything down and licking up what he missed. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I meant to warn you…"

Dean stood in one fluid moment and pressed his lips hard against Sam's, shoving his tongue roughly into his mouth. That was a _shut up, I'm fine_ signal if he ever saw one. Sam tasted himself in Dean's mouth and moaned softly. Sam backed up toward the bed and fell back with Dean on top of him. At some point he must have shed his boxers because all Sam felt was Dean's bare heat enveloping his body and he soaked it in. Dean fitted himself in the vee of Sam's hip, meaning he needed to get there and fast. They hardly ever just rutted against each other anymore but Dean came in just a few hard thrusts, spilling across Sam's hips. "Fuck," Dean sighed, collapsing on top of him.

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly. Can't say I was expecting that tonight, what with D…"

"Shh. You know the rules. No "d" word when we're…you know," Dean whispered, kissing him again.

"Hmm. Sorry. That was…"

"Probably the hottest fucking thing ever," Dean finished. "You letting go like that? Yeah."

"Huh. Never took you for the type to like something like that."

"Yeah well. I'm just full of surprises, Sammy. Now shut your eyes," Dean said. Sam didn't want to, knowing that he would wake up alone, but Dean humming Guns n' Roses lulled him into sleep faster than he expected. He heard Dean whisper something in his ear before he was pulled under into sleep.

* * *

><p>"Sammy! Get up! You're gonna be late!" Dean's voice penetrated the fog of sleep. He groaned and rolled over. Dean was not a morning person, but he took some kind of sick pleasure in waking Sam up every day. He stretched his muscles and felt pleasantly relaxed. "SAM!"<p>

"Yeah! I'm up!" He rolled out of bed and shuffled to the shower. Good thing there was an adjoining bathroom to their bedroom. Convenient.

An hour later he was sliding out of the Impala in front of school. "Later, Sammy." Sam took the opportunity to lean in the window and smile wickedly. He really loved turning Dean on in public, knowing there was nothing he could do about it. He winked at Dean and turned toward the school, anxious to check the mail.

"Hi, Angie," Sam called upon arriving at the office. "I don't suppose there's any mail for me today?"

"Actually, there is. Here ya go. I have a good feeling about today, Sam." She smiled at him as she handed over the envelope with Stanford insignia.

"Thanks. See ya later." He smiled at her and headed into the hallway and the crush of bodies. Once he'd settled into his homeroom desk, he took a deep breath and slid the envelope open.

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into Stanford University. Congratulations on your achievements and we look forward to contacting you again soon._

"YES!" Sam shouted and his whole class looked up, startled. "Sorry."

"Something you'd like to share, Mr. Winchester?" His teacher eyed him over her half-moon spectacles.

"Oh, uh. No Mrs. Baker. Sorry again," Sam said, ducking his head. He did it. He got in. Now what?

* * *

><p>"Dean? I'm heading out for a bit. Be back in a few hours okay? Make sure Sam practices his bow hunting sometime this week."<p>

"Yes sir," he answered automatically. Oh that'll be fun. Sam _hated_ bow hunting. As soon as John pulled out of the driveway, Dean headed into his and Sam's bedroom. He stood in the doorway uncertainly for a bit. He really didn't want to do this, but how else would he find out what Sam was hiding from him? Secrets could be deadly, and Dean needed to know. He started with the closet, pawing through every article of clothing and scrap of paper he could find. When nothing incriminating caught his eye, he moved on to the dresser, then under the dresser, then under the bed. Nothing. Just as he was about to give up, he thought about where he would hide something if he were Sam.

The obvious answer was his school bag, but since he had no chance of checking that out right now his other thought was the mattress. He slid over and lifted the mattress up onto his shoulders. Bingo. Dean pulled all the papers out and shuffled through them where he sat on the floor. Applications, catalogues, scholarship lists? What the fuck? He also found a few half-finished essays about why Sam was a valid choice for Harvard and one for Princeton. The parts he read were fantastic, and Dean knew a university would be stupid not to accept his brother. His heart clenched in his chest when he realized what all of this meant. Sam was leaving him. He was looking at colleges and actively _planning_ his life away from hunting. Away from Dean.

He shoved everything back under the mattress, including several maps of Palo Alto and a seemingly random scrap of math scribbles. Sam was a lot of things, but random wasn't one of them. These were all concrete ideas. Sam made his decision and neglected to tell anyone. Their dad, he could understand. But why would he keep this from him? Was he scared? Dean's stomach rolled and he thought he was going to be sick. Maybe Sam never wanted all this attention from Dean. Maybe he was running away because he was disgusted by sick older brother that can't keep his hands-or his mouth, or his dick-to himself. He saw their whole relationship in a harsh new light. Maybe Sam hated him. It was a valid reason to run away without so much as a "fuck you".

Dean ran out to the Impala. He needed to clear his head. He drove with the windows down even though March in Montana was not exactly warm. The cold breeze stung his cheeks and eyes as he drove, debating what to do. He didn't want Sam to know he' snooped, but how could he ever act normal? The first obvious step would be backing off. No more flirting, no more touching. He'd be damned if it was his perversions that drove his brother away for good. Maybe Sammy would finally tell him. If he backed off and kept his cool, maybe he wouldn't have to bring it up at all.

About an hour later, he found himself in front of Sam's school at 3:30 on the dot. No matter how fucked up his head may be, he tried to have his priorities straight. Or rather, priority. He spotted Sam's shaggy head as he headed over. He chatted with a girl and he was just beaming. It was as beautiful to see as it was heartbreaking. Sam always had a great smile. He hugged the girl and pointed in Dean's direction as he walked away from her waving.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam slid into the passenger seat with such ease and comfort that Dean just knew he'd gotten news.

"You're in a good mood. You hook up under the bleachers or something?" Sam shot him a bewildered look.

"What? No. You know I don't do that. Just...happy. That okay with you?" Sam punched him playfully on the arm and Dean tried not to flinch from the contact.

"What's up with you?"  
>"Nothing. Dad wants you to practice with the bow this week. Not looking forward to the long hours of bitching I have coming my way."<p>

"Aww man! I hate the bow! It makes my arms sore," Sam whined.

"Yeah, that's muscle building up, you big baby." Once they got home and Sam changed Dean instructed him to warm up. "I'll be right there. Don't forget to stretch your arms." Sam grumbled the whole way outside. Dean watched him go, imagining he was seeing him for the last time. He rushed into their room and dug into Sam's bag. There were so many books and papers, Dean almost called the whole thing a bust. He opened the front zipper and pulled out a cream colored envelope. His heart sank as he read the Stanford letter head.

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_ We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance-_

Dean stopped. He folded the letter and returned it hastily, trying keep his emotions in check. Sam got in. He was leaving and soon. Every moment with Sam became precious. He was devastated and angry. He schooled his face into a mask of calm. He wasn't sure he could survive Sam leaving him, so he would do whatever it took to keep him around.

"Dean? You comin'?" Sam called him from the kitchen. He straightened and took a deep breath. He took a look around their bedroom and closed the door behind him.


End file.
